III 


UFI7BRSIT7 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS 


IN    THE    YEARS    1860-69. 


BY 


EDWARD   WHYMPER. 


WITH  OVER  100  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Toil  and  pleasure,  in  their  natures  opposite,  are  yet  linked  together  in  a  kind 
of  necessary  connection. — LIVY. 


PHILADELPHIA 
J.    B.    LIPPINCOTT    &    CO. 

1872. 


PREFACE. 


IN  the  year  1860,  shortly  before  leaving  England  for  a  long  Continental 
tour,  a  certain  eminent  London  publisher  requested  me  to  make  for  him 
some  sketches  of  the  great  Alpine  peaks.  At  this  time  I  had  only  a  literary 
acquaintance  with  mountaineering,  and  had  even  not  seen — much  less  set 
foot  upon — a  mountain.  Amongst  the  peaks  which  were  upon  my  list  was 
Mont  Pelvoux,  in  Dauphine.  The  sketches  that  were  required  of  it  were  to 
celebrate  the  triumph  of  some  Englishmen  who  intended  to  make  its  ascent. 
They  came — they  saw — but  they  did  not  conquer.  By  a  mere  chance  I  fell 
in  with  a  very  agreeable  Frenchman  who  accompanied  this  party,  and  was 
pressed  by  him  to  return  to  the  assault.  In  1861  we  did  so,  with  my  friend 
Macdonald,  and  we  conquered.  This  was  the  origin  of  my  scrambles 
amongst  the  Alps. 

The  ascent  of  Mont  Pelvoux  (including  the  disagreeables)  was  a  very 
delightful  scramble.  The  mountain  air  did  not  act  as  an  emetic ;  the  sky  did 
not  look  black  instead  of  blue ;  nor  did  I  feel  tempted  to  throw  myself 
over  precipices.  I  hastened  to  enlarge  my  experience,  and  went  to  the 
Matterhorn.  I  was  urged  toward  Mont  Pelvoux  by  those  mysterious  im- 
pulses which  cause  men  to  peer  into  the  unknown.  Not  only  was  this  moun- 
tain reputed  to  be  the  highest  in  France,  and  on  that  account  was  worthy  of 
attention,  but  it  was  the  dominating  point  of  a  most  picturesque  district  of 
the  highest  interest,  which,  to  this  day,  remains  almost  unexplored.  The 
Matterhorn  attracted  me  simply  by  its  grandeur.  It  was  considered  to  be 
the  most  thoroughly  inaccessible  of  all  mountains,  even  by  those  who  ought 
to  have  known  better.  Stimulated  to  make  fresh  exertions  by  one  repulse 
after  another,  I  returned,  year  after  year,  as  I  had  opportunity,  more  and 
more  determined  to  find  a  way  up  it,  or  to  prove  it  to  be  really  inaccessible. 

A  considerable  portion  of  this  volume  is  occupied  by  the  history  of  these 
attacks  on  the  Matterhorn,  and  the  other  excursions  that  are  desc-ribed  have 
all  some  connection,  more  or  less  remote,  with  that  mountain  or  with  Mont 
Pelvoux.  All  are  new  excursions  (that  is,  excursions  made  for  the  first  time), 
unless  the  contrary  is  pointed  out.  Some  have  been  passed  over  very  briefly, 
and  entire  ascents  or  descents  have  been  disposed  of  in  a  single  line.  If 
they  had  been  worked  out  at  full  length,  three  volumes  instead  of  one  would 
have  been  required.  Generally  speaking,  the  salient  points  alone  have  been 
dwelt  upon,  and  the  rest  has  been  left  to  the  imagination.  This  treatment 
has  saved  the  reader  from  much  useless  repetition. 

3 


4  PREFACE. 

In  endeavoring  to  make  the  book  of  some  use  to  those  who  may  wish  to  go 
mountain-scrambling,  whether  in  the  Alps  or  elsewhere,  undue  prominence, 
perhaps,  has  been  given  to  our  mistakes  and  failures ;  and  it  will  doubtless 
be  pointed  out  that  our  practice  must  have  been  bad  if  the  principles  which 
are  laid  down  are  sound,  or  that  the  principles  must  be  unsound  if  the  prac- 
tice was  good.  It  is  maintained  in  an  early  chapter  that  the  positive,  or 
unavoidable,  dangers  of  mountaineering  are  very  small,  yet  from  subsequent 
pages  it  can  be  shown  that  very  considerable  risks  were  run.  The  reason  is 
obvious — we  were  not  immaculate.  Our  blunders  are  not  held  up  to  be 
admired  or  to  be  imitated,  but  to  be  avoided. 

These  scrambles  amongst  the  Alps  were  holiday  excursions,  and  as  such 
they  should  be  judged.  They  are  spoken  of  as  sport,  and  nothing  more. 
The  pleasure  that  they  gave  me  cannot,  I  fear,  be  transferred  to  others.  The 
ablest  pens  have  failed,  and  must  always  fail,  to  give  a  true  idea  of  the  grand- 
eur of  the  Alps.  The  most  minute  descriptions  of  the  greatest  writers  do 
nothing  more  than  convey  impressions  that  are  entirely  erroneous — the 
reader  conjures  up  visions,  it  may  be  magnificent  ones,  but  they  are  infin- 
itely inferior  to  the  reality.  I  have  dealt  sparingly  in  descriptions,  and  have 
employed  illustrations  freely,  in  the  hope  that  the  pencil  may  perhaps  suc- 
ceed where  the  pen  must  inevitably  have  failed. 

The  preparation  of  the  illustrations  has  occupied  a  large  part  of  my  time 
during  the  last  six  years.  With  the  exception  of  the  views  upon  pp.  18,  19 
and  24,  the  whole  of  the  illustrations  have  been  engraved  expressly  for  the 
book,  and,  unless  it  is  otherwise  specified,  all  are  from  my  own  sketches. 
About  fifty  have  been  drawn  on  the  wood  by  Mr.  James  Mahoney,  and  I  am 
much  indebted  to  that  artist  for  the  care  and  fidelity  with  which  he  has  fol- 
lowed my  slight  memoranda,  and  for  the  spirit  that  he  has  put  into  his 
admirable  designs.  Most  of  his  drawings  will  be  identified  by  his  mono- 
gram. Twenty  of  the  remainder  are  the  work  of  Mr.  Cyrus  Johnston,  and 
out  of  these  I  would  draw  especial  attention  to  the  view  of  the  Matterhorn 
facing  p.  36,  the  striated  rock  upon  p.  63,  and  the  bits  from  the  Mer  de 
Glace  upon  pp.  138,  139.  The  illustrations  have  been  introduced  as  illustra- 
tions, and  very  rarely  for  ornamental  purposes.  We  have  subordinated 
everything  in  them  to  accuracy,  and  it  is  only  fair  to  the  artists  who  have 
honored  me  by  their  assistance  to  say  that  many  of  their  designs  would 
have  ranked  higher  as  works  of  art  if  they  had  been  subjected  to  fewer 
restrictions. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


The  Drawings  were  made  on  the  Wood  by 

H.  J.  BOOT,  C.  JOHNSON,  J.  MAHONEY,  J.  W.  NORTH,  P.  SKELTON,  W.  G.  SMITH,  and  C.  J.  STANILAND  ; 
and  were  Engraved  by  J.  W.  and  EDWARD  WHYMPER. 

*  From  Photographs.  **  Designs. 

FULL-PAGE    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

*  i.  THE  CLUB-ROOM  OF  ZERMATT   IN  1864 , Frontispiece. 

2,  MONT  PELVOUX  AND  THE  ALEFROIDE,  FROM  NEAR  MONT  DAUPHIN 16 

*  3.  THE  MONT  CENIS  ROAD  AND  THE  FELL  RAILWAY,  ON  THE  ITALIAN  SIDE..  30 

4.  THE  MATTERHORN,  FROM  NEAR  THE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  THEODULE  PASS 36 

5-  "  IN  ATTEMPTING  TO  PASS  THE  CORNER  I  SLIPPED  AND  FELL" 54 

**  6.  A  CANNONADE  ON  THE  MATTERHORN  (1862) 57 

7.  "THE  CHIMNEY" '.  64 

8.  THE  CRAGS   OF   THE  MATTERHORN  DURING  THE  STORM,  MIDNIGHT,  AUG. 

10,  1863 71 

•*  9.  DESCENDING  WESTERN  ARETE  OF  THE  POINTE  DES  ECRINS 89 

*  IO.  "  WE  SAW  A  TOE — IT  SEEMED  TO  BELONG  TO  MOORE ;  WE  SAW  REYNAUD  A 

FLYING  BODY" 95 

**  ii.  THE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  MOMING  PASS  IN  1864 108 

12.  THE  BERGSCHRUND  ON  THE  DENT  BLANCHE  IN   18615 117 

13.  THE  MATTERHORN  FROM  THE  RIFFELBERG 121 

*  14.  THE  GRANDES  JORASSES  FROM  THE  VAL  FERRET 133 

15.  THE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  COL  DOLENT 134 

16.  FOG-BOW,  SEEN    FROM   THE    MATTERHORN    ON    JULY    14,    1865 157 

IN   THE   TEXT. 

1.  BEACHY  HEAD 9 

2.  THE  DEVIL  OF  NOTRE  DAME 10 

**  3.  MULES 10 

**  4.  A  CURE  IN  DIFFICULTIES 13 

5.  AT  THE  ST.  BERNARD 13 

**  6.  WHICH  is  THE  BRUTE? 13 

**  7.  "GARIBALDI!" 15 

*  8.  BRIANCON 16 

9.  MONT  PELVOUX  FROM  ABOVE  LA  BESSEE 18 

10.  IN  THE  VAL  D'ALEFRED 19 

11.  THE  GRAND  PELVOUX  DE  VAL  LOUISE 20 

12.  BUTTRESSES  OF  MONT  PELVOUX 21 

*  13.  PORTRAIT  OF  R.  J.  S.  MACDONALD 23 

14.  OUTLINE  TO  SHOW  ROUTE  UP  MONT  PELVOUX 24 

15.  THE  BLANKET   BAG 27 

16.  NATURAL  PILLAR  NEAR  MOLINES 29 

*  17.  CROSSING  MONT   CENIS 30 

**  18.  THE  LITTLE  POSTILION 31 

19.  THE  CENTRE  RAIL  ON  A  CURVE 32 

20.  SECTION  OF   THE  FELL  RAILWAY 32 

*  21.  THE  COVERED  WAYS  OF  THE  FELL  RAILWAY 33 

22.  THE  CENTRE-RAIL  BRAKE 34 

23.  OUTLINES  OF  THE  MATTERHORN  FROM  THE  NORTH-EAST 37 


6  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PACK 

*  24.  PORTRAIT  OF  J.  J.  BENNEN 38 

*  25.  PORTRAIT  OF  JEAN-ANTOINE  CARREL 40 

26.  THE  COL  DU  LION;  LOOKING  TOWARD  THE  TETE  DU  LION 41 

**  27.  AT  BREUIL  (GIOMEIN) 44 

28.  OUTLINES  OF  THE  MATTERHORN  FROM  THE  THEODULE  PASS 46 

29.  DIAGRAM  TO  SHOW  MANNER  OF  FASTENING  TENT-POLES 47 

30.  ALPINE  TENT 47 

31.  CLIMBING   CLAW 51 

32.  ROPE  AND  RING 51 

33.  THE  MATTERHORN  FROM  BREUIL 58 

**  34.  "  BUT  WHAT  IS  THIS?" 59 

35.  AN  ARCH  OF  THE  AQUEDUCT  IN  THE  VAL  TOURNANCHE 61 

*  36.  WATER-WORN  ROCKS  IN  THE  GORGE  BELOW  THE  CORNER  GLACIER 62 

37.  STRIATIONS  PRODUCED  BY  GLACIER-ACTION 63 

**  38.  "CARREL  LOWERED  ME  DOWN" 67 

*  39.  PORTRAIT  OF  MONSIEUR   FAVRE 73 

*  40.  CROSSING  THE  CHANNEL 74 

**  41.  A  NIGHT   WITH  CROZ 75 

*  42.  PORTRAIT  OF  MICHEL- AUGUSTE  CROZ 76 

43.  THE  AIGUILLES  D'ARVE  FROM  ABOVE  THE  CHALETS  OF  RIEU  BLANC 78 

*  44.  PORTRAIT  OF  MELCHIOR  ANDEREGG 81 

45.  MAP  OF  THE  BRECHE  DE  LA  MEIJE,  ETC 82 

*  46.  THE  VALLON  DES  ETANCONS 83 

47.  MAP  OF  THE  CENTRAL  DAUPHINE  ALPS 84 

48.  THE  POINTE  DES  ECRINS  FROM  THE  CoL  DU  GALIBIER 86 

49.  OUTLINE  TO  SHOW  ROUTE  UP  POINTE  DES  ECRINS 86 

50.  FRAGMENT  FROM  THE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  POINTE  DES  ECRINS 88 

**  51.  A  SNOW  COULOIR 93 

**  52.  PORTRAITS  OF  MR.  REILLY  ON  A  WET  DAY 99 

53.  OUR  CAMP  ON  MONT  Sue 100 

54.  ICE-AVALANCHE   ON    THE    MOMING    PASS Io8 

55.  FAC-SIMILE  OF  A  LETTER  FROM  CROZ 112 

56.  PART  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  RIDGE  OF  THE  GRAND  CORNIER 113 

57.  PART  OF  THE  NORTHERN  RIDGE  OF  THE  GRAND  CORNIER 114 

*  58.  PORTRAIT  OF  LESLIE  STEPHEN 116 

*  59.  PORTRAIT  OF  T.  S.  KENNEDY 119 

60.  DIAGRAMS  TO  SHOW  DIP  OF  STRATA  ON  THE  MATTERHORN 122-3 

*  61.  MY  TENT-BEARER — THE  HUNCHBACK 125 

*  62.  THE  BOUQUETIN , 127 

63.  A  CRETIN  OF  AOSTA 129 

64.  MY  ICE-AXE 135 

65.  KENNEDY   ICE-AXE 136 

66.  STEPHEN  ICE-AXE 136 

67.  CRAMPON 136 

*  68.  PORTRAIT  OF  CHRISTIAN  ALMER 137 

*  69.  ON  THE  MER  DE  GLACE 138 

*  70.    ICE-PlNNACLES    ON   THE    MER    DE    GLACE 139 

*  71.  WESTERN  SIDE  OF  THE  COL  DE  TALEFRE 142 

**  72.  GLISSADING 143 

**  73.  THE  WRONG  WAY  TO  USE  A  ROPE  ON  GLACIER 146 

**  74.  THE  RIGHT  WAY  TO  USE  A  ROPE  ON  GLACIER 146 

75.  "CROZ!  CROZ!   COME  HERE" 153 

76.  THE  ACTUAL  SUMMIT  OF  THE  MATTERHORN  IN  1865 154 

77.  THE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  MATTERHORN 155 

78.  ROPE  BROKEN  ON  THE  MATTERHORN 157 

*  79.  PORTRAIT  OF  MONSIEUR  SEILER 158 

80.  MANILLA  ROPE  BROKEN  ON   THE  MATTERHORN 159 

81.  THE  "SECOND"  ROPE  BROKEN  ON  THE  MATTERHORN 160 

**  82.  THE  END 162 

83.  NATURAL  PINNACLES  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  DURANCE 163 


CONTENTS. 


I. — INTRODUCTORY 9 

II. — THE  ASCENT  OF  MONT  PELVOUX 16 

III. — THE  MONT  CENIS  PASS  AND  THE  FELL  RAILWAY — THE   GREAT  TUNNEL 

THROUGH   THE   ALPS 30 

IV. — MY  FIRST  SCRAMBLE  ON  THE  MATTERHORN 35 

V. — RENEWED  ATTEMPTS  TO  ASCEND  THE  MATTERHORN 44 

VI. — THE  VAL  TOURNANCHE — THE  BREUILJOCH — ZERMATT — ASCENT  OF  THE 

GRAND  TOURNALIN 59 

VII. — OUR  SIXTH  ATTEMPT  TO  ASCEND  THE  MATTERHORN 69 

VIII. — FROM  ST.  MICHEL  TO  LA  BERARDE  BY  THE  COL  DES  AIGUILLES,  D'ARVE, 

COL  DE  MARTIGNARE,  AND  THE  BRECHE  DE  LA  MEIJE 75 

IX. — THE  ASCENT  OF  THE  POINTE  DES  ECRINS 83 

X. — FROM  VAL  LOUISE  TO  LA  BERARDE  BY  THE  COL  DE  PILATTE 91 

XL — PASSAGE  OF  THE  COL  DE  TRIOLET,  AND  ASCENTS  OF  MONT  DOLENT, 

AIGUILLE  DE  TRELATETE  AND  AIGUILLE  D'ARGENTIERE 96 

XII. — THE  MOMING  PASS — ZERMATT 105 

XIII. — THE  ASCENT  OF  THE  GRAND   CORNIER no 

XIV. — THE  ASCENT  OF  THE  DENT  BLANCHE 116 

XV. — LOST  ON  THE  COL  D' KERENS — SEVENTH  ATTEMPT  TO  ASCEND  THE  MAT- 
TERHORN   ...  119 

XVI. — ON  THE  VALLEY  OF  AOSTA,  AND  THE  ASCENT  OF  THE  GRANDES  JORASSES.  126 

XVIL— THE  COL  DOLENT 133 

KVIII. — ASCENT  OF  THE  AIGUILLE  VERTE 137 

XIX.— THE  COL  DE  TALEFRE ' 142 

XX. — ASCENT  OF  THE  RUINETTE — THE  MATTERHORN 144 

XXL— THE  ASCENT   OF  THE   MATTERHORN 150 

XXII. — THE  DESCENT  OF  THE  MATTERHORN 155 

APPENDIX  ..             162 


. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS 


IN   THE   YEARS    1860-69. 


BEACHY   HEAD. 


o 


CHAPTER  I. 

N  the  23d  of  July,  1860,  I  started 
for  my  first  tour  in  the  Alps.  As 
we  steamed  out  into  the  Channel, 
Beachy  Head  came  into  view,  and  re- 
called a  scramble  of  many  years  ago. 
With  the  impudence  of  ignorance,  my 
brother  and  I,  schoolboys  both,  had 
tried  to  scale  that  great  chalk  cliff.  Not 
the  head  itself— where  sea-birds  circle, 
and  where  the  flints  are  ranged  so  or- 


derly in  parallel  lines — but  at  a  place 
more  to  the  east,  where  the  pinnacle 
called  the  Devil's  Chimney  had  fallen 
down.  Since  that  time  we  have  been 
often  in  dangers  of  different  kinds,  but 
never  have  we  more  nearly  broken  our 
necks  than  upon  that  occasion. 

In  Paris  I  made  two  ascents.  The 
first  to  the  seventh  floor  of  a  house  in  the 
Quartier  Latin — to  an  artist  friend,  who 
was  engaged,  at  the  moment  of  my 

9 


IO 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


entry,  in  combat  with  a  little  Jew.  He 
hurled  him  with  great  good-will  and 
with  considerable  force  into  some  of 
his  crockery,  and  then  recommended 
me  to  go  up  the  towers  of  Notre  Dame. 
Half  an  hour  later  I  stood  on  the 
parapet  of  the  great  west  front,  by  the 
side  of  the  leering  fiend  which  for  cen- 
turies has  looked  down  upon  the  great 


city.  It  looked  over  the  Hotel  Dieu 
to  a  small  and  commonplace  building, 
around  which  there  was  always  a  mov- 
ing crowd.  To  that  building  I  descend- 
ed. It  was  filled  with  chattering  women 
and  eager  children,  who  were  strug- 
gling to  get  a  good  sight  of  three  corpses 
which  were  exposed  to  view.  It  was 
the  Morgue.  I  quitted  the  place  dis- 
gusted, and  overheard  two  women  dis- 
cussing the  spectacle.  One  of  them 
concluded  with,  "But  that  it  is  droll;" 
the  other  answered  approvingly,  "  But 
that  it  is  droll ;"  and  the  Devil  of  Notre 
Dame,  looking  down  upon  them,  seemed 
to  say,  "Yes,  your  climax,  the  cancan — 
your  end,  not  uncommonly,  that  build- 
ing:  it  is  droll,  but  that  it  is  droll." 

I  passed  on  to  Switzerland  ;  saw  the 
sunlight  lingering  on  the  giants  of  the 
Oberland  ;  heard  the  echoes  from  the 
cow-horns  in  the  Lauterbrunnen  valley 
and  the  avalanches  rattling  off  the  Jung- 
frau  ;  and  then  crossed  the  Gemmi  into 
the  Valais,  resting  for  a  time  by  the 
beautiful  Oeschinen  See,  and  getting  a 
forcible  illustration  of  glacier-motion  in 
a  neighboring  valley  —  the  Gasteren 
Thai.  The  upper  end  of  this  valley  is 
crowned  by  the  Tschingel  glacier,  which, 


as  it  descends,  passes  over  an  abrupt 
cliff  that  is  in  the  centre  of  its  course. 
On  each  side  the  continuity  of  the  gla- 
cier is  maintained,  but  in  the  centre  it 
is  cleft  in  twain  by  the  cliff.  Lowe' 
down  it  is  consolidated  again.  I  scrarr- 
bled  on  to  this  lower  portion,  advanced 
toward  the  cliff,  and  then  stopped  to 
admire  the  contrast  of  the  brilliant  pin- 
nacles of  ice  with  the  blue  sky.  With- 
out a  warning,  a  huge  slice  of  the  gla- 
cier broke  away  and  fell  over  the  cliff 
on  to  the  lower  portion  with  a  thunder- 
ing crash.  Fragments  rolled  beyond 
me,  although,  fortunately,  not  in  my 
direction.  I  fled,  and  did  not  stop  until 
off  the  glacier,  but  before  it  was  quitted 
learned  another  lesson  in  glacial  mat- 
ters :  the  terminal  moraine,  which  seem- 
ed to  be  a  solid  mound,  broke  away 
underneath  me,  and  showed  that  it  was 
only  a  superficial  covering  resting  on  a 
slope  of  glassy  ice. 

On  the  steep  path  over  the  Gemmi 
there  were  opportunities  for  observing 
the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Swiss 
mule.  It  is  not  perhaps  in  revenge  for 


generations  of  ill-treatment  that  the 
mule  grinds  one's  legs  against  fences 
and  stone  walls,  and  pretends  to  stum- 
ble in  awkward  places,  particularly 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'6o. 


II 


when  coming  round  corners  and  on  the 
brinks  of  precipices  ;  but  their  evil  habit 
of  walking  on  the  outside  edges  of  paths 
(even  in  the  most  unguarded  positions) 
is  one  that  is  distinctly  the  result  of  as- 
sociation with  man.  The  transport  of 
wood  from  the  mountains  into  the  val- 
leys occupies  most  of  the  mules  during 
a  considerable  portion  of  the  year :  the 
fagots  into  which  the  wood  is  made  up 
project  some  distance  on  each  side,  and 
it  is  said  that  they  walk  intuitively  to 
the  outside  of  paths  having  rocks  on 
the  other  side  to  avoid  the  collisions 
which  would  otherwise  occur.  When 
they  carry  tourists  they  behave  in  a 
similar  manner;  and  no  doubt  when 
the  good  time  for  mules  arrives,  and 
they  no  longer  carry  burdens,  they  will 
still  continue,  by  natural  selection,  to 
do  the  same.  This  habit  frequently 
gives  rise  to  scenes  :  two  mules  meet — 
each  wishes  to  pass  on  the  outside,  and 
neither  will  give  way.  It  requires  con- 
siderable persuasion,  through  the  me- 
dium of  the  tail,  before  such  difficulties 
are  arranged. 

I  visited  the  baths  of  Leuk,  and  saw 
the  queer  assemblage  of  men,  women 
and  children,  attired  in  bathing-gowns, 
chatting,  drinking  and  playing  at  chess 
in  the  water.  The  company  did  not 
seem  to  be  perfectly  sure  whether  it  was 
decorous  in  such  a  situation  and  in  such 
attire  for  elderly  men  to  chase  young 
females  from  one  corner  to  another,  but 
it  was  unanimous  in  howling  at  the  ad- 
vent of  a  stranger  who  remained  cov- 
ered, and  literally  yelled  when  I  depart- 
ed without  exhibiting  my  sketch. 

I  trudged  up  the  Rhone  valley,  and 
turned  aside  at  Visp  to  go  up  the  Visp 
Thai,  where  one  would  expect  to  see 
greater  traces  of  glacial  action,  if  a 
glacier  formerly  filled  it,  as  one  is  said 
to  have  done. 

I  was  bound  for  the  valley  of  Saas, 
and  my  work  took  me  high  up  the  Alps 
on  either  side,  far  beyond  the  limit  of 
trees  and  the  tracks  of  tourists.  The 
view  from  the  slopes  of  the  Wiessmies, 
on  the  eastern  side  of  the  valley,  five 
or  six  thousand  feet  above  the  village 
of  Saas,  is  perhaps  the  finest  of  its  kind 


in  the  Alps.  The  full  height  of  the 
three -peaked  Mischabel  (the  highest 
mountain  in  Switzerland)  is  seen  at  one 
glance — eleven  thousand  feet  of  dense 
forests,  green  alps,  pinnacles  of  rock 
and  glittering  glaciers.  The  peaks 
seemed  to  me  then  to  be  hopelessly 
inaccessible  from  this  direction. 

I  descended  the  valley  to  the  village 
of  Stalden,  and  then  went  up  the  Visp 
Thai  to  Zermatt,  and  stopped  there  sev- 
eral days.  Numerous  traces  of  the  for- 
midable earthquake-shocks  of  five  years 
before  still  remained,  particularly  at  St. 
Nicholas,  where  the  inhabitants  had 
been  terrified  beyond  measure  at  the 
destruction  of  their  churches  and  houses. 
At  this  place,  as  well  as  at  Visp,  a  large 
part  of  the  population  was  obliged  to 
live  under  canvas  for  several  months. 
It  is  remarkable  that  there  was  hardly 
a  life  lost  on  this  occasion,  although 
there  were  about  fifty  shocks,  some  of 
which  were  very  severe. 

At  Zermatt  I  wandered  in  many  di- 
rections, but  the  weather  was  bad  and 
my  work  was  much  retarded.  One  day, 
after  spending  a  long  time  in  attempts 
to  sketch  near  the  Hornli,  and  in  futile 
endeavors  to  seize  the  forms  of  the 
peaks  as  they  for  a  few  seconds  peered 
out  from  above  the  dense  banks  of 
woolly  clouds,  I  determined  not  to  re- 
turn to  Zerma-tt  by  the  usual  path,  but 
to  cross  the  Corner  glacier  to  the  Riffel 
hotel.  After  a  rapid  scramble  over  the 
polished  rocks  and  snow-beds  which 
skirt  the  base  of  the  Theodule  glacier, 
and  wading  through  some  of  the  streams 
which  flow  from  it,  at  that  time  much 
swollen  by  the  late  rains,  the  first  dif- 
ficulty was  arrived  at,  in  the  shape  of  a 
precipice  about  three  hundred  feet  high. 
It  seemed  that  there  would  be  no  dif- 
ficulty in  crossing  the  glacier  if  the  cliff 
could  be  descended,  but  higher  up  and 
lower  down  the  ice  appeared,  to  my  in- 
experienced eyes,  to  be  impassable  for 
a  single  person.  The  general  contour 
of  the  cliff  was  nearly  perpendicular, 
but  it  was  a  good  deal  broken  up,  and 
there  was  little  difficult)'  in  descending 
by  zigzagging  from  one  mass  to  another. 
At  length  there  was  a  long  slab,  nearly 


12 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69.  ' 


smooth,  fixed  at  an  angle  of  about  forty 
degrees  between  two  wall-sided  pieces  of 
rock  :  nothing,  except  the  glacier,  could 
be  seen  below.  It  was  a  very  awkward 
place,  but  being  doubtful  if  return  were 
possible,  as  I  had  been  dropping  from 
one  ledge  to  another,  I  passed  at  length 
by  lying  across  the  slab,  putting  the 
shoulder  stiffly  against  one  side  and  the 
feet  against  the  other,  and  gradually 
wriggling  down,  by  first  moving  the 
legs  and  then  the  back.  When  the  bot- 
tom of  the  slab  was  gained  a  friendly 
crack  was  seen,  into  which  the  point  of 
the  baton  could  be  stuck,  and  I  dropped 
down  to  the  next  piece.  It  took  a  long 
time  coming  down  that  little  bit  of  cliff, 
and  for  a  few  seconds  it  was  satisfactory 
to  see  the  ice  close  at  hand.  In  another 
moment  a  second  difficulty  presented 
itself.  The  glacier  swept  round  an  angle 
of  the  cliff,  and  as  the  ice  was  not  of  the 
nature  of  treacle  or  thin  putty,  it  kept 
away  from  the  little  bay  on  the  edge  of 
which  I  stood.  We"  were  not  widely 
separated,  but  the  edge  of  the  ice  was 
higher  than  the  opposite  edge  of  rock  ; 
and  worse,  the  rock  was  covered  with 
loose  earth  and  stones  which  had  fallen 
from  above.  All  along  the  side  of  the 
cliff,  as  far  as  could  be  seen  in  both 
directions,  the  ice  did  not  touch  it,  but 
there  was  this  marginal  crevasse,  seven 
feet  wide  and  of  unknown  depth. 

All  this  was  seen  at  a  glance,  and 
almost  at  once  I  concluded  that  I  could 
not  jump  the  crevasse,  and  began  to 
try  along  the  cliff  lower  down,  but  with- 
out success,  for  the  ice  rose  higher  and 
higher,  until  at  last  farther  progress  was 
stopped  by  the  cliffs  becoming  perfectly 
smooth.  With  an  axe  it  would  have 
been  possible  to  cut  up  the  side  of  the  ice 
— without  one,  I  saw  there  was  no  alter- 
native but  to  return  and  face  the  jump. 

It  was  getting  toward  evening,  and 
the  solemn  stillness  of  the  High  Alps 
was  broken  only  by  the  sound  of  rush- 
ing water  or  of  falling  rocks.  If  the 
jump  should  be  successful,  well :  if  not, 
I  fell  into  that  horrible  chasm,  to  be 
frozen  in,  or  drowned  in  that  gurgling, 
rushing  water.  Everything  depended 
on  that  jump.  Again  I  asked  myself, 


"Can  it  be  done?"  It  must  be.  So, 
finding  my  stick  was  useless,  I  threw  it 
and  the  sketch-book  to  the  ice,  and  first 
retreating  as  far  as  possible,  ran  forward 
with  all  my  might,  took  the  leap,  barely 
reached  the  other  side,  and  fell  awk- 
wardly on  my  knees.  Almost  at  the 
same  moment  a  shower  of  stones  fell  on 
the  spot  from  which  I  had  jumped. 

The  glacier  was  crossed  without  fur- 
ther trouble,  but  the  Riffel,  which  was 
then  a  very  small  building,  was  cram- 
med with  tourists,  and  could  not  take 
me  in.  As  the  way  down  was  unknown 
to  me,  some  of  the  people  obligingly 
suggested  getting  a  man  at  the  chalets, 
otherwise  the  path  would  be  certainly 
lost  in  the  forest.  On  arriving  at  the 
chalets  no  man  could  be  found,  and  the 
lights  of  Zermatt,  shining  through  the 
trees,  seemed  to  say,  "  Never  mind  a 
guide,  but  come  along  down  :  we'll  show 
you  the  way  ;"  so  off  I  went  through 
the  forest,  going  straight  toward  them. 
The  path  was  lost  in  a  moment,  and 
was  never  recovered  :  I  was  tripped  up 
by  pine  roots,  I  tumbled  over  rhododen- 
dron bushes,  I  fell  over  rocks.  The 
night  was  pitch-dark,  and  after  a  time 
the  lights  of  Zermatt  became  obscure  or 
went  out  altogether.  By  a  series  of 
slides  or  falls,  or  evolutions  more  or  less 
disagreeable,  the  descent  through  the 
forest  was  at  length  accomplished,  but 
torrents  of  a  formidable  character  had 
still  to  be  passed  before  one  could  ar- 
rive at  Zermatt.  I  felt  my  way  about 
for  hours,  almost  hopelessly,  by  an  ex- 
haustive process  at  last  discovering  a 
bridge,  and  about  midnight,  covered 
with  dirt  and  scratches,  re-entered  the 
inn  which  I  had  quitted  in  the  morning. 

Others  besides  tourists  got  into  dif- 
ficulties. A  day  or  two  afterward,  when 
on  the  way  to  my  old  station  near  the 
Hornli,  I  met  a  stout  cure  who  had  es- 
sayed to  cross  the  Theodule  pass.  His 
strength  or  his  wind  had  failed,  and  he 
was  being  carried  down,  a  helpless  bun- 
dle and  a  ridiculous  spectacle,  on  the 
back  of  a  lanky  guide,  while  the  peas- 
ants stood  by  with  folded  hands,  their 
reverence  for  the  Church  almost  over- 
come by  their  sense  of  the  ludicrous. 


SCRAMBLES -AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


I  descended  the  valley,  diverging  from 
the  path  at  Randa  to  mount  the  slopes 


of  the  Dom  (the  highest  of  the  Mischa- 
belhorner),  in  order  to  see  the  Weiss- 
horn  face  to  face.  The  latter  mountain 
is  the  noblest  in  Switzerland,  and  from 
this  direction  it  looks  especially  magnif- 
icent. On  its  north  there  is  a  large 
snowy  plateau  that  feeds  the  glacier  of 
which  a  portion  is  seen  from  Randa, 
and  which  on  more  than  one  occasion 
has  destroyed  that  village.  From  the 
direction  of  the  Dom — that  is,  immedi- 
ately opposite — this  Bies  glacier  seems 
to  descend  nearly  vertically :  it  does 
not  do  so,  although  it  is  very 
steep.  Its  size  is  much  less  than 
formerly,  and  the  lower  portion, 
now  divided  into  three  tails,  clings 
in  a  strange,  weird-like  manner 
to  the  cliffs,  to  which  it  seems 
scarcely  possible  that  it  can  re- 
main attached. 

Unwillingly  I  parted  from  the 
sight  of  this  glorious  mountain, 
and  went  down  to  Visp.  A  party 
of  English  tourists  had  passed  up 
the  valley  a  short  time  before 
with  a  mule.  The  party  num- 
bered nine — eight  women  and  a 
governess.  The  mule  carried 
their  luggage,  and  was  ridden  by 
each  in  turn.  The  peasants — 
themselves  not  unaccustomed  to 
overload  their  beasts — were  struck 
with  astonishment  at  the  unwont- 
ed sight,  and  made  comments, 
more  free  than  welcome  to  English  ears, 
on  the  nonchalance  with  which  young 
miss  sat,  calm  and  collected,  on  the 


miserable  beast,  while  it  was  struggling 
under  her  weight  combined  with  that 
of  the  luggage.  The  story  was  often 
repeated  ;  and  it  tends  to  sustain  some 
of  the  hard  things  which  have  been  said 
of  late  about  young  ladies  from  the  ages 
of  twelve  or  fourteen  to  eighteen. 

Arriving  once  more  in  the  Rhone 
valley,  I  proceeded  to  Viesch,  and  from 
thence  ascended  the  -/Eggischhorn,  on 
which  unpleas- 
ant eminence  I 
lost  my  way  in 
a  fog,  and  my 
temper  shortly 
afterward. 
Then,  after 
crossing  the 
Grimsel  in  a 
severe  thunder- 
storm, I  passed 
on  to  Brienz, 
Inter lachen 
and  Berne,  and 
thence  to  Fri- 
bourg  and  Mo- 
rat,  Neuchatel,  Martigny  and  the  St. 
Bernard.  The  massive  walls  of  the 
convent  were  j&  welcome  sight  as  I 


waded  through  the  snow-beds  near  the 
summit  of  the  pass,  and  pleasant  also 
was  the  courteous  salutation  of  the 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


brother  who  bade  me  enter.  He  won- 
dered at  the  weight  of  my  knapsack, 
and  I  at  the  hardness  of  their  bread. 
The  saying  that  the  monks  make  the 
toast  in  the  winter  that  they  give  to 
tourists  in  the  following  season  is  not 
founded  on  truth :  the  winter  is  their 
most  busy  time  of  the  year.  But  it  is 
true  they  have  exercised  so  much  hos- 
pitality that  at  times  they  have  not  pos- 
sessed the  means  to  furnish  the  fuel  for 
heating  their  chapel  in  the  winter. 

Instead  of  descending  to  Aosta,  I 
turned  aside  into  the  Val  Pelline,  in  or- 
der to  obtain  views  of  the  Dent  d'Erin. 
The  night  had  come  on  before  Biona 
was  gained,  and  I  had  to  knock  long  and 
loud  upon  the  door  of  the  cure's  house  be- 
fore it  was  opened.  An  old  woman  with 
querulous  voice  and  with  a  large  goitre 
answered  the  summons,  and  demanded 
rather  sharply  what  was  wanted,  but  be- 
came pacific,  almostgood-natured,  when 
a  five-franc  piece  was  held  in  her  face 
and  she  heard  that  lodging  and  supper 
were  requested  in  exchange. 

My  directions  asserted  that  a  passage 
existed  from  Prerayen,  at  the  head  of 
this  valley,  to  Breuil,  in  the  Val  Tour- 
nanche,  and  the  old  woman,  now  con- 
vinced of  my  respectability,  busied  her- 
self to  find  a  guide.  Presently  she  in- 
troduced a  native  picturesquely  attired 
in  high  -  peaked  hat,  braided  jacket, 
scarlet  waistcoat  and  indigo  pantaloons, 
who  agreed  to  take  me  to  the  village 
of  Val  Tournanche.  We  set  off  early 
on  the  next  morning,  and  got  to  the 
bummit  of  the  pass  without  difficulty. 
It  gave  me  my  first  experience  of  con- 
siderable slopes  of  hard,  steep  snow, 
and,  like  all  beginners,  I  endeavored 
to  prop  myself  up  with  my  stick,  and 
kept  it  outside,  instead  of  holding  it 
between  myself  and  the  slope,  and 
leaning  upon  it,  as  should  have  been 
clone.  The  man  enlightened  me,  but 
he  had,  properly,  a  very  small  opinion 
of  his  employer,  and  it  is  probably  on 
that  account  that,  a  few  minutes  after 
we  had  passed  the  summit,  he  said  he 
would  not  go  any  farther  and  would 
return  to  Biona.  All  argument  was 
useless :  he  stood  still,  and  to  every- 


thing that  was  said  answered  nothing 
but  that  he  would  go  back.  Being 
rather  nervous  about  descending  some 
long  snow-slopes  which  still  intervened 
between  us  and  the  head  of  the  valley, 
I  offered  more  pay,  and  he  went  on  a 
little  way.  Presently  there  were  some 
cliffs,  down  which  we  had  to  scramble. 
He  called  to  me  to  stop,  then  shouted 
that  he  would  go  back,  and  beckoned 
to  me  to  come  up.  On  the  contrary,  I 
waited  for  him  to  come  down,  but  in- 
stead of  doing  so,  in  a  second  or  two 
he  turned  round,  clambered  deliberately 
up  the  cliff  and  vanished.  I  supposed 
it  was  only  a  ruse  to  extort  offers  of 
more  money,  and  waited  for  half  an 
hour,  but  he  did  not  appear  again. 
This  was  rather  embarrassing,  for  he 
carried  off  my  knapsack.  The  choice 
of  action  lay  between  chasing  him  and 
going  on  to  Breuil,  risking  the  loss  of 
my  knapsack.  I  chose  the  latter  course, 
and  got  to  Breuil  the  same  evening. 
The  landlord  of  the  inn,  suspicious  of 
a  person  entirely  innocent  of  luggage, 
was  doubtful  if  he  could  admit  me,  and 
eventually  thrust  me  into  a  kind  of  loft, 
which  was  already  occupied  by  guides 
and  by  hay.  In  later  years  we  became 
good  friends,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
give  credit  and  even  to  advance  con- 
siderable sums. 

My  sketches  from  Breuil  were  made 
under  difficulties :  my  materials  had 
been  carried  off,  nothing  better  than 
fine  sugar-paper  could  be  obtained,  and 
the  pencils  seemed  to  contain  more 
silica  than  plumbago.  However,  they 
were  made,  and  the  pass  was  again 
crossed,  this  time  alone.  By  the  fol- 
lowing evening  the  old  woman  of  Biona 
again  produced  the  faithless  guide.  The 
knapsack  was  recovered  after  the  lapse 
of  several  hours,  and  then  I  poured 
forth  all  the  terms  of  abuse  and  re- 
proach of  which  I  was  master.  The 
man  smiled  when  called  a  liar,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders  when  referred 
to  as  a  thief,  but  drew  his  knife  when 
spoken  of  as  a  pig. 

The  following  night  was  spent  at  Cor- 
mayeur,  and  the  day  after  I  crossed  the 
Col  Ferrex  to  Orsieres,  and  on  the  next 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


the  Tete  Noir  to  Chamounix.  The  Em- 
peror Napoleon  arrived  the  same  day, 
and  access  to  the  Mer  de  Glace  was 
refused  to  tourists ;  but,  by  scrambling 
along  the  Plan  des  Aiguilles,  I  managed 
to  outwit  the  guards,  and  to  arrive  at 
the  Montanvert  as  the  imperial  party 
was  leaving,  failing  to  get  to  the  Jardin 
the  same  afternoon,  but  very  nearly 
succeeding  in  breaking  a  leg  by  dis- 
lodging great  rocks  on  the  moraine  of 
the  glacier. 

From  Chamounix  I  went  to  Geneva, 
and  thence  by  the  Mont  Cenis  to  Turin 
and  to  the  Vaudois  valleys.  A  long 


and  weary  day  had  ended  when  Paes- 
ana  was  reached.  The  inn  was  full, 
and  I  was  tired  and  about  to  go  to  bed 
when  some  village  stragglers  entered 
and  began  to  sing.  They  sang  to  Gari- 
baldi !  The  tenor,  a  ragged  fellow, 
whose  clothes  were  not  worth  a  shilling, 
took  the  lead  with  wonderful  expression 
and  feeling.  The  others  kept  their 
places  and  sang  in  admirable  time. 
For  hours  I  sat  enchanted,  and  long 
after  I  retired  the  sound  of  their  melody 
could  be  heard,  relieved  at  times  by 
the  treble  of  the  girl  who  belonged  to 
the  inn. 


GARIBALDI! 


The  next  morning  I  passed  the  little 
lakes  which  are  the  sources  of  the  Po, 
on  my  way  into  France.  The  weather 
was  stormy,  and  misinterpreting  the 
patois  of  some  natives — who  in  reality 
pointed  out  the  right  way — I  missed  the 
track,  and  found  myself  under  the  cliffs 
of  Monte  Viso.  A  gap  that  was  occa- 
sionally seen  in  the  ridge  connecting  it 
with  the  mountains  to  the  east  tempted 
me  up,  and  after  a  battle  with  a  snow- 
slope  of  excessive  steepness,  I  reached 
the  summit.  The  scene  was  extraordi- 
nary, and,  in  my  experience,  unique. 
To  the  north  there  was  not  a  particle 
of  mist,  and  the  violent  wind  coming 
from  that  direction  blew  one  back  stag- 
gering. But  on  the  side  of  Italy  the 
valleys  were  completely  filled  with  dense 
masses  of  cloud  to  a  certain  level ;  and 
there — where  they  felt  the  influence  of 
the  wind — they  were  cut  off  as  level  as 
the  top  of  a  table,  the  ridges  appearing 
above  them. 

I   raced  down  to  Abries,    and   went 


on  through  the  gorge  of  the  Guil  to 
Mont  Dauphin.  The  next  day  found 
me  at  La  Bessee,  at  the  junction  of  the 
Val  Louise  with  the  valley  of  the  Du- 
rance, in  full  view  of  Mont  Pelvoux ; 
and  by  chance  I  walked  into  a  cabaret 
where  a  Frenchman  was  breakfasting 
who  a  few  days  before  had  made  an  un- 
successful attempt  to  ascend  that  moun- 
tain with  three  Englishmen  ana  the  guide 
Michel  Croz  of  Chamounix  —  a  right 
good  fellow,  by  name  Jean  Reynaud. 

The  same  night  I  slept  at  Brianc.on, 
intending  to  take  the  courier  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  to  Grenoble,  but  all  places 
had  been  secured  several  days  before- 
hand, so  I  set  out  at  two  p.  M.  on  the 
next  day  for  a  seventy-mile  walk.  The 
weather  was  again  bad,  and  on  the 
summit  of  the  Col  de  Lautaret  I  was 
forced  to  seek  shelter  in  the  wretched 
little  hospice.  It  was  filled  with  work- 
men who  were  employed  on  the  road, 
and  with  noxious  vapors  which  proceed- 
ed from  them.  The  inclemency  of  the 


i6 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


weather  was  preferable  to  the  inhospi- 
tality  of  the  interior.  Outside,  it  was 
disagreeable,  but  grand — inside,  it  was 
disagreeable  and  mean.  The  walk  was 
continued  under  a  deluge  of  rain,  and 
I  felt  the  way  down,  so  intense  was  the 
darkness,  to  the  village  of  La  Grave, 
where  the  people  of  the  inn  detained 
me  forcibly.  It  was  perhaps  fortunate 
that  they  did  so,  for  during  that  night 
blocks  of  rock  fell  at  several  places 
from  the  cliffs  on  to  the  road  with  such 
force  that  they  made  large  holes  in  the 
macadam,  which  looked  as  if  there  had 


been  explosions  of  gunpowder.  I  re- 
sumed the  walk  at  half-past  five  next 
morning,  and  proceeded,  under  steady 
rain,  through  Bourg  d'Oysans  to  Gren- 
oble, arriving  at  the  latter  place  soon 
after  seven  P.  M.,  having  accomplished 
the  entire  distance  from  Briancon  in 
about  eighteen  hours  of  actual  walking. 
This  was  the  end  of  the  Alpine  por- 
tion of  my  tour  of  1860,  on  which  I  was 
introduced  to  the  great  peaks,  and  ac- 
quired the  passion  for  mountain- scram- 
bling the  development  of  which  is 
described  in  the  following  chapters. 


BRIAN^ON. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   ASCENT    OF   MONT    PKLVOUX. 

THE  district  of  which  Mont  Pelvoux 
and  the  neighboring  summits  are  the 
culminating  points  is,  both  historically 
and  topographically,  one  of  the  most 
interesting  in  the  Alps.  As  the  nursery 
and  the  home  of  the  Vaudois,  it  has 
claims  to  permanent  attention :  the 
names  of  Waldo  and  of  Neff  will  be 
remembered  when  men  more  famous 


in  their  time  are  forgotten,  and  the 
memory  of  the  heroic  courage  and  the 
simple  piety  of  their  disciples  will  en- 
dure as  long  as  history  lasts. 

This  district  contains  the  highest  sum- 
mits in  France,  and  some  of  its  finest 
scenery.  It  has  not  perhaps  the  beau- 
ties of  Switzerland,  but  has  charms  of 
its  own  :  its  cliffs,  its  torrents  and  its 
gorges  are  unsurpassed,  its  deep  and 
savage  valleys  present  pictures  of  gran- 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


deur,  and  even  sublimity,  and  it  is 
second  to  none  in  the  boldness  of  its 
mountain  forms. 

The  district  includes  a  mass  of  val- 
leys which  vie  with  each  other  in  singu- 
larity of  character  and  dissimilarity  of 
climate.  Some  the  rays  of  the  sun  can 
never  reach,  they  are  so  deep  and  nar- 
row. In  others  the  very  antipodes  may 
be  found,  the  temperature  more  like 
that  of  the  plains  of  Italy  than  of  alpine 
France.  This  great  range  of  climate 
has  a  marked  effect  on  the  flora  of  these 
valleys  :  sterility  reigns  in  some,  stones 
take  the  place  of  trees,  debris  and  mud 
replace  plants  and  flowers :  in  others, 
in  the  space  of  a  few  miles,  one  passes 
vines,  apple,  pear  and  cherry  trees,  the 
birch,  alder,  walnut,  ash,  larch  and  pine 
alternating  with  fields  of  rye,  barley, 
oats,  beans  and  potatoes. 

The  valleys  are  for  the  most  part 
short  and  erratic.  They  are  not,  ap- 
parently, arranged  on  any  definite  plan  : 
they  are  not  disposed,  as  is  frequently 
the  case  elsewhere,  either  at  right  angles 
to,  or  parallel  with,  the  highest  sum- 
mits, but  they  wander  hither  and  thither, 
taking  one  direction  for  a  few  miles, 
then  doubling  back,  and  then  perhaps 
resuming  their  original  course.  Thus 
long  perspectives  are  rarely  to  be  seen, 
and  it  is  difficult  to  form  a  general  idea 
of  the  disposition  of  the  peaks. 

The  highest  summits  are  arranged 
almost  in  a  horse-shoe  form.  The  high- 
est of  all,  which  occupies  a^  central  po- 
sition, is  the  Pointe  des  Ecrins ;  the 
second  in  height,  the  Meije,  is  on  the 
north ;  and  the  Mont  Pelvoux,  which 
gives  its  name  to  the  entire  block,  stands 
almost  detached  by  itself  on  the  outside. 

At  the  beginning  of  July,  1861,  I  des- 
patched to  Reynaud  from  Havce  blank- 
ets (which  were  taxed  as  "  prohibited 
fabrics"),  rope,  and  other  things  desi- 
rable for  the  excursion,  and  set  out  on 
the  tour  of  France,  but  four  weeks  later, 
at  Nimes,  found  myself  completely  col- 
lapsed by  the  heat,  then  94°  Fahr.  in 
the  shade,  so  I  took  a  night  train  at 
once  to  Grenoble. 

I  lost  my  way  in  the  streets  of  this 
picturesque  but  noisome  town,  and  hav- 


ing but  a  half  hour  left  in  which  to  get 
a  dinner  and  take  a  place  in  the  dili- 
gence, was  not  well  pleased  to  hear 
that  an  Englishman  wished  to  see  me. 
It  turned  out  to  be  my  friend  Macdon- 
ald,  who  confided  to  me  that  he  was 
going  to  try  to  ascend  a  mountain  call- 
ed Pelvoux  in  the  course  of  ten  days, 
but  on  hearing  of  my  intentions  agreed 
to  join  us  at  La  Bessee  on  the  3d  of 
August.  In  a  few  moments  more  I  was 
perched  in  the  banquette  en  route  for 
Bourg  d'Oysans,  in  a  miserable  vehicle 
which  took  nearly  eight  hours  to  ac- 
complish less  than  thirty  miles. 

At  five  on  a  lovely  morning  I  shoul- 
dered my  knapsack  and  started  for 
Brian9on.  Gauzy  mists  clung  to  the 
mountains,  but  melted  away  when 
touched  by  the  sun,  and  disappeared 
by  jerks  (in  the  manner  of  views  when 
focused  in  a  magic  lantern),  revealing 
the  wonderfully  bent  and  folded  strata 
in  the  limestone  cliffs  behind  the  town. 
Then  I  entered  the  Combe  de  Malval, 
and  heard  the  Romanche  eating  its  way 
through  that  wonderful  gorge,  and  pass- 
ed on  to  Le  Dauphin,  where  the  first 
glacier  came  into  view,  tailing  over  the 
mountain-side  on  the  right.  From  this 
place  until  the  summit  of  the  Col  de 
Lautaret  was  passed,  every  gap  in  the 
mountains  showed  a  glittering  glacier 
or  a  soaring  peak :  the  finest  view  was 
at  La  Grave,  where  the  Meije  rises  by 
a  series  of  tremendous  precipices  eight 
thousand  feet  above  the  road.  The 
finest  distant  view  of  the  pass  is  seen 
after  crossing  the  col,  near  Monetier. 
A  mountain,  commonly  supposed  to  be 
Monte  Viso,  appears  at  the  end  of  the 
vista,  shooting  into  the  sky :  in  the 
middle  distance,  but  still  ten  miles  off, 
is  Brian9on  with  its  interminable  forts, 
and  in  the  foreground,  leading  down 
to  the  Guisane  and  rising  high  up  the 
neighboring  slopes,  are  fertile  fields, 
studded  with  villages  and  church-spires. 
The  next  day  I  walked  over  from  Brian- 
9on  to  La  Bessee,  to  my  worthy  friend 
Jean  Reynaud,  the  surveyor  of  roads 
of  his  district. 

All  the  peaks  of  Mont  Pelvoux  are 
well  seen  from  La  Bessee — the  highest 


iS 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


point  as  well  as  that  upon  which  the 
French  engineers  erected  their  cairn  in 
1828.  Neither  Reynaud  nor  any  one 
else  knew  this.  The  natives  knew  only 
that  the  engineers  had  ascended  one 
peak,  and  had  seen  from  that  a  still 
higher  point,  which  they  called  the 
Pointe  des  Arcines  or  des  Ecrins.  They 
could  not  say  whether  this  latter  could 
be  seen  from  La  Bessee,  nor  could  they 
lell  the  peak  upon  which  the  cairn  had 
been  erected.  We  were  under  the  im- 
pression that  the  highest  point  was  con- 
cealed by  the  peaks  we  saw,  and  would 
be  gained  by  passing  over  them.  They 
knew  nothing  of  the  ascent  of  Monsieur 


Puiseux,  and  they  confidently  asserted 
that  the  highest  point  of  Mont  Pelvoux 
had  not  been  attained  by  any  one :  it 
was  this  point  we  wished  to  reach. 

Nothing  prevented  our  starting  at 
once  but  the  absence  of  Macdonald 
and  the  want  of  a  baton.  Reynaud 
suggested  a  visit  to  the  postmaster,  who 
possessed  a  baton  of  local  celebrity. 
Down  we  went  to  the  bureau,  but  it  was 
closed  :  we  hallooed  through  the  slits, 
but  no  answer.  At  last  the  postmaster 
was  discovered  endeavoring  (with  very 
fair  success)  to  make  himself  intoxi- 
cated. He  was  just  able  to  ejaculate, 
"  France !  'tis  the  first  nation  in  the 


MONT   PELVOUX    FROM    ABOVE    LA    BESSEE. 


world  1" — a  phrase  used  by  a  French- 
man when  in  the  state  in  which  a  Briton 
begins  to  shout,  "We  won't  go  home  till 
morning,"  national  glory  being  upper- 
most in  the  thoughts  of  one,  and  home 
in  those  of  the  other.  The  baton  was 
produced  :  it  was  a  branch  of  a  young 
oak,  about  five  feet  long,  gnarled  and 
twisted  in  several  directions.  "Sir," 
said  the  postmaster,  as  he  presented  it, 
"  France  !  'tis  the  first — the  first  nation 
in  the  world,  by  its — "  He  stuck. 
"Batons,"  I  suggested.  "Yes,  yes,  sir: 
by  its  batons,  by  its — its—"  and  here 


he  could  not  get  on  at  all.  As  I  looked 
at  this  young  limb,  I  thought  of  my 
own  ;  but  Reynaud,  who  knew  every- 
thing about  everybody  in  the  village, 
said  there  was  not  a  better  one  ;  so  off 
we  went  with  it,  leaving  the  official 
staggering  in  the  road,  and  muttering, 
"France!  'tis  the  first  nation  in  the 
world  !" 

The  3d  of  August  came,  but  Mac- 
donald did  not  appear,  so  we  started 
for  the  Val  Louise,  our  party  consist- 
ing of  Reynaud,  myself  and  a  porter, 
Jean  Casimir  Giraud,  nicknamed  "Little 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


19 


Nails,"  the  shoemaker  of  the  place.  An 
hour  and  a  half's  smart  walking  took 
us  to  La  Ville  de  Val  Louise,  our  hearts 
gladdened  by  the  glorious  peaks  of  Pel- 
voux  shining  out  without  a  cloud  around 
them.  I  renewed  acquaintance  with  the 
mayor  of  La  Ville.  His  aspect  was 
original  and  his  manners  were  gracious, 
but  the  odor  which  proceeded  from  him 
was  dreadful.  The  same  may  be  said 
of  most  of  the  inhabitants  of  these 
valleys. 

Reynaud   kindly  undertook   to  look 
after  the  commissariat,  and  I  found  to 
my  annoyance,  when  we  were  about  to 
leave,  that  I  had  given  tacit  consent  to 
a  small  wine-cask  being  carried  with  us, 
which  was  a  great  nuisance  from  the 
commencement.      It    was    excessively 
awkward  to  handle  :  one  man  tried  to 
carry  it,  and  then  another,  and  at  last  it 
was  slung  from  one  of  our  batons,  and 
was  carried  by  two,  which  gave  our 
party  the  appearance 
of  a  mechanical  di- 
agram to  illus- 
trate the  uses  of 
levers. 

At  La  Ville 
the  Val  Louise 
splits  into  two 
branches  — the 
Val  d'Entrai- 
gues  on  the  left, 
and  the  Vallon 
d' Alefred  (  o  r 
Ailefroide)  on 
the  right :  our 
route  was  up 
the  latter,  and 
we  moved 
steadily  for- 
ward to  the  vil- 
lage of  La  Pisse,  where  Pierre  Semiond 
lived,  who  was  reputed  to  know  more 
about  the  Pelvoux  than  any  other  man. 
He  looked  an  honest  fellow,  but  unfor- 
tunately he  was  ill  and  could  not  come. 
He  recommended  his  brother,  an  aged 
creature,  whose  furrowed  and  wrinkled 
face  hardly  seemed  to  announce  the 
man  we  wanted  ;  but,  having  no  choice, 
we  engaged  him  and  again  set  forth. 

Walnut  and  a  great  variety  of  other 


trees  gave  shadow  to  our  path  and  fresh 
vigor  to  our  limbs,  while  below,  in  a 
sublime  gorge,  thundered  the  torrent, 
whose  waters  took  their  rise  from  the 
snows  we  hoped  to  tread  on  the  morrow. 
The  mountain  could  not  be  seen  at 
La  Ville,  owing  to  a  high  intervening 
ridge  :  we  were  now  moving  along  the 
foot  of  this  to  get  to  the  chalets  of  Ale- 
fred— or,  as  they  are  sometimes  called, 
Alefroide — where  the  mountain  actually 
commences.  From  this  di- 
rection the  subordinate 
but  more  proximate 
peaks  appear  con- 
siderably higher 
than  the  loft- 
ier ones  be- 
hind, and 


THE    VAL    D  ALEFRED. 


conceal  them.  But  the  whole  height  of 
the  peak,  which  in  these  valleys  goes 
under  the  name  of  the  "Grand  Pel- 
voux," is  seen  at  one  place  from  its 
summit  to  its  base — six  or  seven  thou- 
sand feet  of  nearly  perpendicular  cliffs. 
The  chalets  of  Alefred  are  a  cluster 
of  miserable  wooden  huts  at  the  foot  of 
the  Grand  Pelvoux,  and  are  close  to  the 
junction  of  the  streams  which  descend 
from  the  glacier  de  Sapeniere  (or  du 


20 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 


Sele)  on  the  left,  and  the  glaciers  Blanc 
and  Noir  on  the  right.  We  rested  a 
minute  to  purchase  some  butter  and 
milk,  and  Semiond  picked  up  a  disre- 
putable-looking lad  to  assist  in  carry- 


ing, pushing  and  otherwise  moving  the 
wine-cask. 

Our  route  now  turned  sharply  to  the 
left,  and  all  were  glad  that  the  day  was 
drawing  to  a  close,  so  that  we  had  the 


THE   GRAND    PELVOUX   DE  VAL   LOUISE. 


shadows  from  the  mountains.  A  more 
frightful  and  desolate  valley  it  is  scarce- 
ly possible  to  imagine  :  it  contains  miles 
of  boulders,  debris,  stones,  sand  and 
mud — few  trees,  and  they  placed  so  high 
as  to  be  almost  out  of  sight.  Not  a  soul 
inhabits  it :  no  birds  are  in  the  air,  no  fish 
in  the  waters  :  the  mountain  is  too  steep 
for  the  chamois,  its  slopes  too  inhos- 
pitable for  the  marmot,  the  whole  too 
repulsive  for  the  eagle.  Not  a  living 
thing  did  we  see  in  this  sterile  and  sav- 
age valley  during  four  days,  except 
some  few  poor  goats  which  had  been 
driven  there  against  their  will. 

We  rested  a  little  at  a  small  spring, 
and  then  hastened  onward  till  we  near- 
ly arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  Sapeniere 
glacier,  when  Semiond  said  we  must 
turn  to  the  right,  up  the  slopes.  This 
we  did,  and  clambered  for  half  an  hour 
through  scattered  pines  and  fallen  boul- 
ders. Then  evening  began  to  close  in 
rapidly,  and  it  was  time  to  look  for  a 
resting-place.  There  was  no  difficulty 
in  getting  one,  for  all  around  it  was  a 
chaotic  assemblage  of  rocks.  We  se- 
lected the  under  side  of  one,  which  was 
more  than  fifty  feet  long  by  twenty  high, 
cleared  it  of  rubbish,  and  then  collected 
wood  for  a  fire. 


That  camp-fire  is  a  pleasant  reminis- 
cence. The  wine-cask  had  got  through 
all  its  troubles :  it  was  tapped,  and  the 
Frenchmen  seemed  to  derive  some  con- 
solation from  its  execrable  contents. 
Reynaud  chanted  scraps  of  French 
songs,  and  each  contributed  his  share 
of  joke,  story  or  verse.  The  weather 
was  perfect,  and  our  prospects  for  the 
morrow  were  good.  My  companions' 
joy  culminated  when  a  packet  of  red 
fire  was  thrown  into  the  flames.  It 
hissed  and  bubbled  for  a  moment  or 
two,  and  then  broke  out  into  a  grand 
flare.  The  effect  of  the  momentary 
light  was  magnificent :  all  around  the 
mountains  were  illuminated  for  a  sec- 
ond, and  then  relapsed  into  their  solemn 
gloom.  One  by  one  our  party  dropped 
off  to  sleep,  and  at  last  I  got  into  my 
blanket-bag.  It  was  hardly  necessary, 
for  although  we  were  at  a  height  of  at 
least  seven  thousand  feet,  the  minimum 
temperature  was  above  40°  Fahrenheit. 

We  roused  at  three,  but  did  not  start 
till  half-past  four.  Giraud  had  been 
engaged  as  far  as  this  rock  only,  but  as 
he  wished  to  go  on,  we  allowed  him  to 
accompany  us.  We  mounted  the  slopes, 
and  quickly  got  above  the  trees,  then 
had  a  couple  of  hours'  clambering  over 


I7ZESIT7 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  iS6o-'6 


21 


bits  of  precipitous  rock  and  banks  of 
debris,  and  at  a  quarter  to  seven  got  to 
a  narrow  glacier — Clos  de  I'Homme — 
which  streamed  out  of  the  plateau  on 
the  summit,  and  nearly  reached  the 
glacier  de  Sapeniere.  We  worked  as 
much  as  possible  to  the  right,  in  hope 
that  we  should  not  have  to  cross  it,  but 
were  continually  driven  back,  and  at 
last  we  found  that  it  was  necessary  to 
do  so.  Old  Semiond  had  a  strong  ob- 
jection to  the  ice,  and  made  explora- 
tions on  his  own  account  to  endeavor 
to  avoid  it;  but  Reynaud  and  I  pre- 
ferred to  cross  it,  and  Giraud  stuck 
to  us.  It  was  narrow — in  fact,  one 
could  throw  a  stone  across  it — 
and  was  easily  mounted  on  the 
side,  but  in  the  centre  swell- 
ed into  a  steep  dome,  up  which  we 
were  obliged  to  cut.  Giraud  stepped 
forward  and  said  he  should  like  to  try 
his  hand,  and  having  got  hold  of  the 
axe,  would  not  give  it  up ;  and  here,  as 
well  as  afterward  when  it  was  necessary 
to  cross  the  gullies  filled  with  hard  snow 
which  abound  on  the  higher  part  of  the 
mountain,  he  did  all  the  work,  and  did 
it  admirably. 

Old  Semiond  of  course  came  after  us 
when  we  got  across.  We  then  zigzag- 
ged up  some  snow-slopes,  and  shortly 
afterward  commenced  to  ascend  the  in- 
terminable array  of  buttresses  which 
are  the  great  peculiarity  of  the  Pelvoux. 
They  were  very  steep  in 'many  places, 
but  on  the  whole  afforded  a  good  hold, 
and  no  climbing  should  be  called  diffi- 
cult which  does  that.  Gullies  abounded 
among  them,  sometimes  of  great  length 
and  depth.  77iey  were  frequently  rot- 
ten, and  would  have  been  difficult  for 
a  single  man  to  pass.  The  uppermost 
men  were  continually  abused  for  dis- 
lodging rocks  and  for  harpooning  those 
below  with  their  batons.  However, 
without  these  incidents  the  climbing 
would  have  been  dull :  they  helped  to 
break  the  monotony. 

We  went  up  chimneys  and  gullies  by 
the  hour  together,  and  always  seemed 
to  be  coming  to  something,  although  we 
never  got  to  it.  The  outline  sketch  will 
help  to  explain  the  situation.  We  stood 


at  the  foot  of  a  great  buttress — perhaps 
about  two  hundred  feet  high — and  look- 
ed up.  It  did  not  go  to  a  point  as  in 
the  diagram,  because  we  could  not  see 
the  top,  although  we  felt  convinced  that 
behind  the  fringe  of  pin- 
nacles we  did  see  there 
was  a  top,  and  that 
it  was  the  edge 
of  the  pla- 
teau we 
so 


BUTTKliSSES   OF    MONT    PELVOUX. 


much  desired  to  attain.  Up  we  mount- 
ed, and  reached  the  pinnacles  ;  but,  lo ! 
another  set  was  seen,  and  another,  and 
yet  more,  till  we  reached  the  top,  and 
found  it  was  only  a  buttress,  and  that 
we  had  to  descend  forty  or  fifty  feet 
before  we  could  commence  to  mount 
again.  When  this  operation  had  been 
performed  a  few  dozen  times  it  began 
to  be  wearisome,  especially  as  we  were 
in  the  dark  as  to  our  whereabouts. 
Semiond,  however,  encouraged  us,  and 
said  he  knew  we  were  on  the  right 
route  ;  so  away  we  went  once  more. 

It  was  now  nearly  mid-day,  and  we 
seemed  no  nearer  the  summit  of  the 
Pelvoux  than  when  we  started.  At  last 
we  all  joined  together  and  held  a  coun- 
cil. "  Semiond,  old  friend,  do  you  know 
where  we  are  now  ?"  "  Oh  yes,  perfect- 
ly, to  a  yard  and  a  half."  "Well,  then, 
how  much  are  we  below  this  plateau  ?" 
He  affirmed  we  were  not  half  an  hour 
from  the  edge  of  the  snow.  "Very 
good :  let  us  proceed."  Half  an  hour 
passed,  and  then  another,  but  we  were 
still  in  the  same  state  :  pinnacles,  but- 
tresses and  gullies  were  in  profusion, 
but  the  plateau  was  not  in  sight.  So 
we  called  him  again — for  he  had  been 
staring  about  latterly  as  if  in  doubt — 
and  repeated  the  question,  "  How  far 
below  are  we  now  ?"  Well,  he  thought 
it  might  be  half  an  hour  more.  "  But 
you  said  that  just  now:  are  you  sure 


22 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


we  are  going  right?"  Yes,  he  believed 
we  were.  Believed  ! — that  would  not 
do.  "Are  you  sure  we  are  going  right 
for  the  Pic  des  Arcines  ?"  "Pic  des 
Arcines!"  he  ejaculated  in  astonish- 
ment, as  if  he  had  heard  the  words  for 
the  first  time — "  Pic  des  Arcines  !  No, 
but  for  the  pyramid,  the  celebrated 
pyramid  he  had  helped  the  great  Capi- 
taine  Durand,"  etc. 

Here  was  a  fix.  We  had  been  talk- 
ing about  it  to  him  for  a  whole  day,  and 
now  he  confessed  he  knew  nothing 
about  it.  I  turned  to  Reynaud,  who 
seemed  thunderstruck:  "What  do  you 
suggest  ?"  He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"Well,"  we  said,  after  explaining  our 
minds  pretty  freely  to  Semiond,  "the 
sooner  we  turn  back  the  better,  for  we 
have  no  wish  to  see  your  pyramid." 

We  halted  for  an  hour,  and  then  com- 
menced the  descent.  It  took  us  nearly 
seven  hours  to  come  down  to  our  rock, 
but  I  paid  no  heed  to  the  distance,  and 
do  not  remember  anything  about  it. 
When  we  got  down  we  made  a  discov- 
ery which  affected  us  as  much  as  the 
footprint  in  the  sand  did  Robinson 
Crusoe  :  a  blue  silk  veil  lay  by  our  fire- 
side. There  was  but  one  solution — 
Macdonald  had  arrived,  but  where  was 
he  ?  We  soon  packed  our  baggage, 
and  tramped  in  the  dusk,  through  the 
stony  desert,  to  Alefred,  where  we  ar- 
rived about  half- past  nine.  "Where  is 
the  Englishman  ?"  was  the  first  ques- 
tion. He  was  gone  to  sleep  at  La  Ville. 

We  passed  that  night  in  a  hay-loft, 
and  in  the  morning,  after  settling  with 
Semiond,  we  posted  down  to  catch  Mac- 
donald. We  had  already  determined 
on  the  plan  of  operation,  which  was  to 
get  him  to  join  us,  return,  and  be  inde- 
pendent of  all  guides,  simply  taking 
the  best  man  we  could  get  as  a  porter. 
I  set  my  heart  on  Giraud — a  good  fel- 
low, with  no  pretence,  although  in  every 
respect  up  to  the  work.  But  we  were 
disappointed :  he  was  obliged  to  go  to 
Brian^on. 

The  walk  soon  became  exciting.  The 
natives  inquired  the  result  of  our  expe- 
dition, and  common  civility  obliged  us 
to  stop.  But  I  was  afraid  of  losing  my 


man,  for  it  was  said  he  would  wait  only 
till  ten  o'clock,  and  that  time  was  near 
at  hand.  At  last  I  dashed  over  the 
bridge — time  from  Alefred  an  hour  and 
a  quarter — but  a  cantonnier  stopped  me, 
saying  that  the  Englishman  had  just 
started  for  La  Bessee.  I  rushed  after 
him,  turned  angle  after  angle  of  the 
road,  but  could  not  see  him  :  at  last,  as 
I  came  round  a  corner,  he  was  also  just 
turning  another,  going  very  fast.  I 
shouted,  and  luckily  he  heard  me.  We 
returned,  reprovisioned  ourselves  at  La 
Ville,  and  the  same  evening  saw  us 
passing  our  first  rock,  en  route  for  an- 
other. I  have  said  we  determined  to 
take  no  guide,  but  on  passing  La  Pisse 
old  Semiond  turned  out  and  offered  his 
services.  He  went  well,  in  spite  of  his 
years  and  disregard  of  truth.  "Why 
not  take  him  ?"  said  my  friend.  So  we 
offered  him  a  fifth  of  his  previous  pay, 
and  in  a  few  seconds  he  closed  with  the 
offer,  but  this  time  came  in  an  inferior 
position — we  were  to  lead,  he  to  follow. 
Our  second  follower  was  a  youth  of 
twenty-seven  years,  who  was  not  all 
that  could  be  desired.  He  drank  Rey- 
naud's  wine,  smoked  our  cigars,  and 
quietly  secreted  the  provisions  when  we 
were  nearly  starving.  Discovery  of  his 
proceedings  did  not  at  all  disconcert 
him,  and  he  finished  up  by  getting  sev- 
eral items  added  to  our  bill  at  La  Ville, 
which,  not  a  little  to  his  disgust,  we 
disallowed. 

This  night  we  fixed  our  camp  high 
above  the  tree-line,  and  indulged  our- 
selves in  the  healthy  employment  of 
carrying  our  fuel  up  to  it.  The  present 
rock  was  not  so  comfortable  as  the  first, 
and  before  we  could  settle  down  we  were 
obliged  to  turn  out  a  large  mass  which 
was  in  the  way.  It  was  very  obstinate, 
but  moved  at  length — slowly  and  gently 
at  first,  then  faster  and  faster,  at  last 
taking  great  jumps  in  the  air,  striking  a 
stream  of  fire  at  every  touch,  which 
shone  out  brightly  as  it  entered  the 
gloomy  valley  below  ;  and  long  after  it 
was  out  of  sight  we  heard  it  bounding 
downward,  and  then  settle  with  a  sub- 
dued crash  on  the  glacier  beneath.  As 
we  turned  back  from  this  curious  sight, 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


Reynaud  asked  if  we  had  ever  seen  a 
torrent  on  fire,  and  told  us  that  in  the 
spring  the  Durance,  swollen  by  the 
melting  of  the  snow,  sometimes  brings 
down  so  many  rocks  that  where  it  passes 
through  a  narrow  gorge  at  La  Bessee 
no  water  whatever  is  seen,  but  only 
boulders  rolling  over  and  over,  grind- 
ing each  other  into  powder,  and  striking 
so  many  sparks  that  the  stream  looks 
as  if  it  were  on  fire. 

We  had  another  merry  evening,  with 
nothing  to  mar  it :  the  weather  was  per- 
fect, and  we  lay  backward  in  luxurious 
repose,  looking  at  the  sky  spangled  with 
its  ten  thousand  brilliant  lights. 

"  The  ranges  stood 
Transfigured  in  the  silver  flood. 
Their  snows  were  flashing  cold  and  keen, 
Dead  white,  save  where  some  sharp  ravine 
Took  shadow,  or  the  sombre  green 
Of  hemlocks  turned  to  pitchy  black, 
Against  the  whiteness  at  their  back."  * 

Macdonald  related  his  experiences 
over  the  cafe  noir.  He  had  traveled 


R.  J.  S.   MACDONALD. 

day  and  night  for  several  days  in  order 
to  join  us,  but  had  failed  to  find  our 
first  bivouac,  and  had  encamped  a  few 
hundred  yards  'from  us  under  another 
rock,  higher  up  the  mountain.  The 
next  morning  he  discerned  us  going 
along  a  ridge  at  a  great  height  above 
him,  and  as  it  was  useless  to  endeavor 
to  overtake  us,  he  lay  down  and  watch- 
ed with  a  heavy  heart  until  we  had 
turned  the  corner  of  a  buttress  and  van- 
ished out  of  sight. 

Nothing  but  the  heavy  breathing  of 
our    already    sound -asleep    comrades 

*  J.  G.  Whittier  :  Snow-Bound. 


broke  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  night. 
It  was  a  silence  to  be  felt.  Nothing ! 
Hark  !  what  is  that  dull  booming  sound 
above  us?  Is  that  nothing?  There  it 
is  again,  plainer:  on  it  comes,  nearer, 
clearer:  'tis  a  crag  escaped  from  the 
heights  above.  What  a  fearful  crash  ! 
We  jump  to  our  feet.  Down  it  comes 
with  awful  fury  :  what  power  can  with- 
stand its  violence  ?  Dancing  leaping, 
flying,  dashing  against  others,  roaring 
as  it  descends.  Ah,  it  has  passed  !  No  : 
there  it  is  again,  and  we  hold  our  breath 
as,  with  resistless  force  and  explosions 
like  artillery,  it  darts  past,  with  an  ava- 
lanche of  shattered  fragments  trailing 
in  its  rear.  'Tis  gone,  and  we  breathe 
more  freely  as  we  hear  the  finale  on  the 
glacier  below. 

We  retired  at  last,  but  I  was  too  ex- 
cited to  sleep.  At  a  quarter-past  four 
every  man  once  more  shouldered  his 
pack  and  started.  This  time  we  agreed 
to  keep  more  to  the  right,  to  see  if  it 
were  not  possible  to  get  to  the  plateau 
without  losing  any  time  by  crossing  the 
glacier.  To  describe  our  route  would 
be  to  repeat  what  has  been  said  before. 
We  mounted  steadily  for  an  hour  and 
a  half,  sometimes  walking,  but  more 
frequently  climbing,  and  then  found, 
after  all,  that  it  was  necessary  to  cross 
the  glacier.  The  part  on  which  we 
struck  came  down  a  very  steep  slope, 
and  was  much  crevassed.  The  word 
crevassed  hardly  expresses  its  appear- 
ance :  it  was  a  mass  of  formidable 
seracs.  We  found,  however,  more  dif- 
ficulty in  getting  on  than  across  it,  but, 
thanks  to  the  rope,  it  was  passed  some- 
how :  then  the  interminable  buttresses 
began  again.  Hour  after  hour  we  pro- 
ceeded upward,  frequently  at  fault  and 
obliged  to  descend.  The  ridge  behind 
us  had  sunk  long  ago,  and  we  looked 
over  it  and  all  others  till  our  eyes  rested 
on  the  majestic  Viso.  Hour  after  hour 
passed,  and  monotony  was  the  order 
of  the  day :  when  twelve  o'clock  came 
we  lunched,  and  contemplated  the  scene 
with  satisfaction  :  all  the  summits  in 
sight,  with  the  single  exception  of  the 
Viso,  had  given  in,  and  we  looked  over 
an  immense  expanse — a  perfect  sea  of 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


peaks  and  snow-fields.  Still  the  pin- 
nacles rose  above  us,  and  opinions 
were  freely  uttered  that  we  should  see 
no  summit  of  Pelvoux  that  day.  Old 
Semiond  had  become  a  perfect  bore  to 


all :  whenever  one  rested  for  a  moment 
to  look  about,  he  would  say,  with  a 
complacent  chuckle,  "  Don't  be  afraid — 
follow  me."  We  came  at  last  to  a  very 
bad  piece,  rotten  and  steep,  and  no 


MONT     PELVOUX 


PIC  DE  LA  PYRAMIDS 
HIGHEST  POINT  12,920 

12,973 

GRAND  PELVOUX 
•  ;       DE  VAL  LOUISE 

I  12,343 


hold.  Here  Reynaud  and  Macdonald 
confessed  to  being  tired,  and  talked  of 
going  to  sleep.  A  way  was  discovered 
out  of  the  difficulty :  then  some  one 
called  out,  "Look  at  the  Viso !"  and  we 
saw  that  we  almost  looked  over  it.  We 
worked  away  with  redoubled  energy, 
and  at  length  caught  sight  of  the  head 
of  the  glacier  as  it  streamed  out  of  the 
plateau.  This  gave  us  fresh  hopes :  we 
were  not  deceived,  and  with  a  simultane- 
ous shout  we  greeted  the  appearance  of 
our  long  wished -for  snows.  A  large 
crevasse  separated  us  from  them,  but  a 
bridge  was  found :  we  tied  ourselves  in 
line  and  moved  safely  over  it.  Directly 
we  got  across  there  arose  before  us  a  fine 
snow-capped  peak.  Old  Semiond  cried, 
"The  pyramid!  I  see  the  pyramid!" 
"Where,  Semiond,  where?"  "There, 
on  the  top  of  that  peak." 

There,  sure  enough,  was  the  cairn  he 
had  helped  to  erect  more  than  thirty 
years  before.  But  where  was  the  Pic 
des  Arcines  which  we  were  to  see  ?  It 
was  nowhere  visible,  but  only  a  great  ex- 
panse of  snow,  bordered  by  three  lower 


peaks.  Somewhat  sadly  we  moved  to- 
ward the  pyramid,  signing  that  there 
was  no  other  to  conquer,  but  hardly  had 
we  gone  two  hundred  paces  before  there 
rose  a  superb  white  cone  on  the  left, 
which  had  been  hidden  before  by  a 
slope  of  snow.  We  shouted,  "The  Pic 
des  Arcines  !"  and  inquired  of  Semiond 
if  he  knew  whether  that  peak  had  been 
ascended.  As  for  him,  he  knew  noth- 
ing except  that  the  peak  before  us  was 
called  the  Pyramid,  from  the  cairn  he 
had,  etc.,  etc.,  and  that  it  had  been  as- 
cended since.  "All  right,  then:  face 
about ;"  and  we  immediately  turned  at 
right  angles  for  the  cone,  the  porter 
making  faint  struggles  for  his  beloved 
pyramid.  Our  progress  was  stopped  in 
the  sixth  of  a  mile  by  the  edge  of  the 
ridge  connecting  the  two  peaks,  and  we 
perceived  that  it  curled  over  in  a  love- 
ly volute.  We  involuntarily  retreated. 
Semiond,  who  was  last  in  the  line,  took 
the  opportunity  to  untie  himself,  and 
refused  to  come  on,  said  we  were  run- 
ning dangerous  risks,  and  talked  vague- 
ly of  crevasses.  We  tied  him  up  again 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


25 


and  proceeded.  The  snow  was  very 
soft :  we  were  always  knee-deep,  and 
sometimes  floundered  in  up  to  the  waist, 
but  a  simultaneous  jerk  before  and  be- 
hind always  released  one.  By  this  time 
we  had  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  final 
peak.  The  left-hand  ridge  seemed  easier 
than  that  upon  which  we  stood,  so  we 
curved  round  to  get  to  it.  Some  rocks 
peeped  out  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
below  the  summit,  and  up  these  we 
crawled,  leaving  our  porter  behind,  as 
he  said  he  was  afraid.  I  could  not  re- 
sist the  temptation,  as  we  went  off,  to 
turn  round  and  beckon  him  onward, 
saying,  "Don't  be  afraid — follow  me," 
but  he  did  not  answer  to  the  appeal, 
and  never  went  to  the  top.  The  rocks 
led  to  a  short  ridge  of  ice — our  plateau 
on  one  side,  and  a  nearly  vertical  preci- 
pice on  the  other.  Macdonald  cut  up 
it,  and  at  a  quarter  to  two  we  stood 
shaking  hands  on  the  loftiest  summit 
of  the  conquered  Pelvoux  ! 

The  day  still  continued  everything 
that  could  be  desired,  and  far  and  near 
countless  peaks  burst  into  sight,  without 
a  cloud  to  hide  them.  The  -mighty  Mont 
Blanc,  full  seventy  miles  away,  first 
caught  our  eyes,  and  then,  still  farther 
off,  the  Monte  Rosa  group  ;  while,  roll- 
ing away  to  the  east,  one  unknown 
range  after  another  succeeded  in  un- 
veiled splendor,  fainter  and  fainter  in 
tone,  but  still  perfectly  defined,  till  at 
last  the  eye  was  unable  to  distinguish 
sky  from  mountain,  and  they  died  away 
in  the  far-off  horizon.  Monte  Viso  rose 
up  grandly,  but  it  was  less  than  forty 
miles  away,  and  we  looked  over  it  to  a 
hazy  mass  we  knew  must  be  the  plains 
of  Piedmont.  Southward,  a  blue  mist 
seemed  to  indicate  the  existence  of  the 
distant  Mediterranean  :  to  the  west  we 
looked  over  to  the  mountains  of  Au- 
vergne.  Such  was  the  panorama,  a 
view  extending  in  nearly  every  direc- 
tion for  more  than  a  hundred  miles.  It 
was  with  some  difficulty  we  wrenched 
our  eyes  from  the  more  distant  objects 
to  contemplate  the  nearer  ones.  Mont 
Dauphin  was  very  conspicuous,  but  La 
Bessee  was  not  readily  perceived.  Be- 
sides these,  not  a  human  habitation 


could  be  seen  :  all  was  rock,  snow  or 
ice  ;  and  large  as  we  knew  were  the 
snow-fields  of  Dauphine,  we  were  sur- 
prised to  find  that  they  very  far  sur- 
passed our  most  ardent  imagination. 
Nearly  in  a  line  between  us  and  the 
Viso,  immediately  to  the  south  oLCha- 
teau  Queyras,  was  a  splendid  group  of 
mountains  of  great  height.  More  to 
the  south  an  unknown  peak  seemed 
still  higher,  while  close  to  us  we  were 
astonished  to  discover  that  there  was  a 
mountain  which  appeared  even  higher 
than  that  on  which  we  stood.  At 
least  this  was  my  opinion  :  Macdonald 
thought  it  not  so  high,  and  Reynaud 
insisted  that  its  height  was  much  about 
the  same  as  our  own. 

This  mountain  was  distant  a  couple 
of  miles  or  so,  and  was  separated  from 
us  by  a  tremendous  abyss,  the  bottom 
of  which  we  could  not  see.  On  the 
other  side  rose  this  mighty  wall-sided 
peak,  too  steep  for  snow,  black  as  night, 
with  sharp  ridges  and  pointed  summit. 
We  were  in  complete  ignorance  of  its 
whereabouts,  for  none  of  us  had  been 
on  the  other  side  :  we  imagined  that  La 
Berarde  was  in  the  abyss  at  our  feet, 
but  it  was  in  reality  beyond  the  other 
mountain. 

We  left  the  summit  at  last,  and  de- 
scended to  the  rocks  and  to  our  porter, 
where  I  boiled  some  water,  obtained  by 
melting  snow.  After  we  had  fed  and 
smoked  our  cigars  (lighted  without  diffi- 
culty from  a  common  match),  we  found 
it  was  ten  minutes  past  three,  and  high 
time  to  be  off.  We  dashed,  waded  and 
tumbled  for  twenty-five  minutes  through 
the  snow,  and  then  began  the  long  de- 
scent of  the  rocks.  It  was  nearly  four 
o'clock,  and  as  it  would  be  dark  at  eight, 
it  was  evident  that  there  was  no  time  to 
be  lost,  and  we  pushed  on  to  the  utmost. 
Nothing  remarkable  occurred  going 
down.  We  kept  rather  closer  to  the 
glacier,  and  crossed  at  the  same  point 
as  in  the  morning.  Getting  off  it  was 
like  getting  on  it — rather  awkward.  Old 
Semiond  had  got  over,  so  had  Reynaud : 
Macdonald  came  next,  but  as  he  made 
a  long  stretch  to  get  on  to  a  higher 
mass,  he  slipped^  and  would  have  been 


26 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


in  the  bowels  of  a  crevasse  in  a  moment 
had  he  not  been  tied. 

It  was  nearly  dark  by  the  time  we 
had  crossed,  but  still  I  hoped  that  we 
should  be  able  to  pass  the  night  at  our 
rock.  Macdonald  was  not  so  sanguine, 
and  he  was  right ;  for  at  last  we  found 
ourselves  quite  at  fault,  and  wandered 
helplessly  up  and  down  for  an  hour, 
while  Reynaud  and  the  porter  indulged 
in  a  little  mutual  abuse.  The  dreary 
fact  that,  as  we  could  not  get  down,  we 
must  stay  where  we  were,  was  now  quite 
apparent. 

We  were  at  least  ten  thousand  five 
hundred  feet  high,  and  if  it  commenced 
to  rain  or  snow,  as  the  gathering  clouds 
and  rising  wind  seemed  to  threaten,  we 
might  be  in  a  sore  plight.  We  were 
hungry,  having  eaten  little  since  three 
A.  M.,  and  a  torrent  we  heard  close  at 
hand,  but  could  not  discover,  aggra- 
vated our  thirst.  Semiond  endeavored 
to  get  some  water  from  it,  but  although 
he  succeeded  in  doing  so,  he  was  wholly 
unable  to  return,  and  we  had  to  solace 
him  by  shouting  at  intervals  through 
the  night. 

A  more  detestable  locality  for  a  night 
out  of  doors  it  is  difficult  to  imagine. 
There  was  no  shelter  of  any  kind,  it 
was  perfectly  exposed  to  the  chilly  wind 
which  began  to  rise,  and  it  was  too 
steep  to  promenade.  Loose,  rubbly 
stones  covered  the  ground,  and  had  to 
be  removed  before  we  could  sit  with 
any  comfort.  This  was  an  advantage, 
although  we  hardly  thought  so  at  the 
time,  as  it  gave  us  some  employment, 
and  after  an  hour's  active  exercise  of 
that  interesting  kind  I  obtained  a  small 
strip,  about  nine  feet  long,  on  which  it 
was  possible  to  walk.  Reynaud  was  fu- 
rious at  first,  and  soundly  abused  the 
porter,  whose  opinion  as  to  the  route 
down  had  been  followed,  rather  than 
that  of  our  friend,  and  at  last  settled 
down  to  a  deep  dramatic  despair,  and 
wrung  his  hands  with  frantic  gesture,  as 
he  exclaimed,  "Oh,  malheur,  malheur ! 
Oh  miserables  !" 

Thunder  commenced  to  growl  and 
lightning  to  play  among  the  peaks 
above,  and  the  wind,  which  had  brought 


the  temperature  down  to  nearly  freezing- 
point,  began  to  chill  us  to  the  bones. 
We  examined  our  resources.  They 
were  six  and  half  cigars,  two  boxes  of 
vesuvians,  one-third  of  a  pint  of  brandy- 
and-water,  and  half  a  pint  of  spirits  of 
wine — rather  scant  fare  for  three  fellows 
who  had  to  get  through  seven  hours  be- 
fore daylight.  The  spirit-lamp  was  light- 
ed, and  the  remaining  spirits  of  wine,  the 
brandy  and  some  snow  were  heated  by 
it.  It  made  a  strong  liquor,  but  we  only 
wished  for  more  of  it.  When  that  was 
over,  Macdonald  endeavored  to  dry  his 
socks  by  the  lamp,  and  then  the  three 
lay  down  under  my  plaid  to  pretend  to 
sleep.  Reynaud's  woes  were  aggra- 
vated by  toothache  :  Macdonald  some- 
how managed  to  close  his  eyes. 

The  longest  night  must  end,  and  ours 
did  at  last.  We  got  down  to  our  rock 
in  an  hour  and  a  quarter,  and  found  the 
lad  not  a  little  surprised  at  our  absence. 
He  said  he  had  made  a  gigantic  fire  to 
light  us  down,  and  shouted  with  all  his 
might :  we  neither  saw  the  fire  nor  heard 
his  shouts.  Pie  said  we  looked  a  ghastly 
crew,  and  no  wonder  :  it  was  our  fourth 
night  out. 

We  feasted  at  our  cave,  and  perform- 
ed some  very  necessary  ablutions.  The 
persons  of  the  natives  are  infested  by 
certain  agile  creatures,  whose  rapidity 
of  motion  is  only  equaled  by  their  num- 
bers and  voracity.  It  is  dangerous  to 
approach  too  near  them,  and  one  has 
to  study  the  wind,  so  as  to  get  on  their 
weather  side  :  in  spite  of  all  such  pre- 
cautions my  unfortunate  companion  and 
myself  were  now  being  rapidly  devoured 
alive.  We  only  expected  a  temporary 
lull  of  our  tortures,  for  the  interiors  of 
the  inns  are  like  the  exteriors  of  the 
natives,  swarming  with  this  species  of 
animated  creation. 

It  is  said  that  once,  when  these  tor- 
mentors were  filled  with  an  unanimous 
desire,  an  unsuspecting  traveler  was 
dragged  bodily  from  his  bed !  This 
needs  confirmation.  One  word  more, 
and  I  have  done  with  this  vile  subject. 
We  returned  from  our  ablutions,  and 
found  the  Frenchmen  engaged  in  con- 
versation. "Ah!"  said  old  Semiond, 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


"as  to  fleas,  I  don't  pretend  to  be  dif- 
ferent to  any  one  else — /  have  them." 
This  time  he  certainly  spoke  the  truth. 

We  got  down  to  La  Ville  in  good  time, 
and  luxuriated  there  for  several  days  : 
we  played  many  games  of  bowls  with 
the  natives,  and  were  invariably  beaten 
by  them.  At  last  it  was  necessary  to 
part :  I  walked  southward  to  the  Viso, 
and  Macdonald  went  to  Briai^on. 

After  parting  from  my  agreeable  com- 
panions, I  walked  by  the  gorge  of  the 
Guil  to  Abries,  and  made  the  acquaint- 
ance at  that  place  of  an  ex-harbormas- 
ter of  Marseilles — a  genial  man,  who 
spoke  English  well.  Besides  the  ex- 
harbormaster  and  some  fine  trout  in 
the  neighboring  streams,  there  was  little 
to  invite  a  stay  at  Abries.  The  inn — 
L'Etoile,  chez  Richard  —  is  a  place  to 
be  avoided.  Richard,  it  may  be  ob- 
served, possessed  the  instincts  of  a  rob- 
ber. At  a  later  date,  when  forced  to 


seek  shelter  in  his  house,  he  desired  to 
see  my  passport,  and  catching  sight  of 
the  words  John  Russell,  he  entered  that 
name  instead  of  my  own  in  a  report  to 
the  gendarmerie,  uttering  an  exclama- 
tion of  joyful  surprise  at  the  same  time. 
I  foolishly  allowed  the  mistake  to  pass, 
and  had  to  pay  dearly  for  it,  for  he 
made  out  a  lordly  bill,  against  which 
all  protest  was  unavailing. 

I  quitted  the  abominations  of  Abries 
to  seek  a  quiet  bundle  of  hay  at  Le 
Chalp,  a  village  some  miles  nearer  to 
the  Viso.  On  approaching  the  place 
the  odor  of  sanctity  became  distinctly 
perceptible ;  and  on  turning  a  corner 
the  cause  was  manifested  :  there  was 
the  priest  of  the  place,  surrounded  by 
some  of  his  flock.  I  advanced  humbly, 
hat  in  hand,  but  almost  before  a  word 
could  be  said,  he  broke  out  with,  "Who 
are  you  ?  What  are  you  ?  What  do 
you  want?"  I  endeavored  to  explain. 


•s^s 


THE     BLANKET-BAG. 


"  You  are  a  deserter — I  know  you  are  a 
deserter  :  go  away,  you  can't  stay  here  : 
go  to  Le  Monta,  down  there — I  won't 
have  you  here  ;"  and  he  literally  drove 
me  away.  The  explanation  of  his 
strange  behavior  was  that  Piedmontese 
soldiers  who  were  tired  of  the  service 
had  not  unfrequently  crossed  the  Col 
de  la  Traversette  into  the  valley,  and 
trouble  had  arisen  from  harboring  them. 


However,  I  did  not  know  this  at  the 
time,  and  was  not  a  little  indignant  that 
I,  who  was  marching  to  the  attack, 
should  be  taken  for  a  deserter. 

So  I  walked  away,  and  shortly  after- 
ward, as  it  was  getting  dark,  encamped 
in  a  lovely  hole — a  cavity  or  kind  of 
basin  in  the  earth,  with  a  stream  on 
one  side,  a  rock  to  windward  and  some 
broken  pine  branches  close  at  hand. 


28 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


Nothing  could  be  more  perfect — rock, 
hole,  wood  and  water.  After  making 
a  roaring  fire,  I  nestled  in  my  blanket- 
bag  (an  ordinary  blanket  sewn  up, 
double  round  the  legs,  with  a  piece  of 
elastic  ribbon  round  the  open  end)  and 
slept,  but  not  for  long.  I  was  troubled 
with  dreams  of  the  Inquisition  :  the  tor- 
tures were  being  applied,  priests  were 
forcing  fleas  down  my  nostrils  and  into 
my  eyes,  and  with  red-hot  pincers  were 
taking  out  bits  of  flesh,  and  then  cutting 
off  my  ears  and  tickling  the  soles  of  my 
feet.  This  was  too  much  :  I  yelled  a 
great  yell,  and  awoke  to  find  myself 
covered  with  innumerable  crawling 
bodies  :  they  were  ants.  I  had  camped 
by  an  ant-hill,  and,  after  making  its  in- 
habitants mad  with  the  fire,  had  coolly 
lain  down  in  their  midst. 

The  night  was  fine,  and  as  I  settled 
down  in  more  comfortable  quarters,  a 
brilliant  meteor  sailed  across  full  60° 
of  the  cloudless  sky,  leaving  a  trail  of 
light  behind  which  lasted  for  several  sec- 
onds. It  was  the  herald  of  a  splendid 
spectacle.  Stars  fell  by  hundreds,  and, 
not  dimmed  by  intervening  vapors,  they 
sparkled  with  greater  brightness  than 
Sirius  in  our  damp  climate. 

The  next  morning,  after  walking  up 
the  valley  to  examine  the  Viso,  I  return- 
ed to  Abries,  and  engaged  a  man  from 
a  neighboring  hamlet  for  whom  the  ex- 
harbormaster  had  sent — an  inveterate 
smoker,  and  thirsty  in  proportion,  whose 
pipe  never  left  his  mouth  except  to  allow 
him  to  drink.  We  returned  up  the  val- 
ley together,  and  slept  in  the  hut  of  a 
shepherd  whose  yearly  wage  was  almost 
as  small  as  that  of  the  herdsman  spoken 
of  in  Hyperion  by  Longfellow  ;  and  the 
next  morning,  in  his  company,  proceed- 
ed to  the  summit  of  the  pass  which  I 
had  crossed  in  1860;  but  we  were  baf- 
fled in  our  attempt  to  get  near  the  moun- 
tain. A  deep  notch  with  precipitous 
cliffs  cut  us  off  from  it :  the  snow-slope, 
too,  which  existed  in  the  preceding  year 
on  the  Piedmontese  side  of  the  pass, 
was  now  wanting,  and  we  were  unable 
to  descend  the  rocks  which  lay  beneath. 
A  fortnight  afterward  the  mountain  was 
ascended  for  the  first  time  by  Messrs. 


Mathews  and  Jacomb,  with  the  two 
Crozes  of  Chamounix.  Their  attempt 
was  made  from  the  southern  side,  and 
the  ascent,  which  was  formerly  consid- 
ered a  thing  totally  impossible,  has  be- 
come one  of  the  most  common  and 
favorite  excursions  of  the  district. 

We  returned  crest-fallen  to  Abries. 
The  shepherd,  whose  boots  were  very 
much  out  of  repair,  slipped  upon  the 
steep  snow-slopes  and  performed  won- 
derful but  alarming  gyrations,  which 
took  him  to  the  bottom  of  the  valley 
more  quickly  than  he  could  otherwise 
have  descended.  He  was  not  much 
hurt,  and  was  made  happy  by  a  few 
needles  and  a  little  thread  to  repair  his 
abraded  garments  :  the  other  man,  how- 
ever, considered  it  willful  waste  to  give 
him  brandy  to  rub  in  his  cuts,  when  it 
could  be  disposed  of  in  a  more  ordinary 
and  pleasant  manner. 

The  night  of  the  I4th  of  August  found 
me  at  St.  Veran,  a  village  made  famous 
by  Neff,  but  in  no  other  respect  remark- 
able, saving  that  it  is  supposed  to  be  the 
highest  in  Europe.  The  Protestants  now 
form  only  a  miserable  minority  :  in  1861 
there  were  said  to  be  one  hundred  and 
twenty  of  them  to  seven  hundred  and 
eighty  Roman  Catholics.  The  poor  inn 
was  kept  by  one  of  the  former,  and  it 
gave  the  impression  of  great  poverty. 
There  was  no  meat,  no  bread,  no  but- 
ter, no  cheese :  almost  the  only  things 
that  could  be  obtained  were  eggs.  The 
manners  of  the  natives  were  primitive  : 
the  woman  of  the  inn,  without  the  least 
sense  of  impropriety,  stayed  in  the  room 
until  I  was  fairly  in  bed,  and  her  bill 
for  supper,  bed  and  breakfast  amcunted 
to  one-and-sevenpence. 

In  this  neighborhood,  and  indeed  all 
round  about  the  Viso,  the  chamois  still 
remain  in  considerable  numbers.  They 
said  at  St.  Veran  that  six  had  been  seen 
from  the  village  on  the  day  I  was  there, 
and  the  innkeeper  declared  that  he  had 
seen  fifty  together  in  the  previous  week  ! 
I  myself  saw  in  this  and  in  the  previous 
season  several  small  companies  round 
about  the  Viso.  It  is  perhaps  as  favor- 
able a  district  as  any  in  the  Alps  for 
a  sportsman  who  wishes  to  hunt  the 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


chamois,  as  the  ground  over  which  they 
wander  is  by  no  means  of  excessive 
difficulty. 

The  next  day  I  descended  the  valley 
to  Ville  Vieille,  and  passed,  near  the 


NATURAL   PILLAR   NEAR    MOLINES   (WEATHER   ACTION). 

village  of  Molines,  but  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  valley,  a  remarkable  natural 
pillar,  in  form  not  unlike  a  champagne 
bottle,  about  seventy  feet  high,  which 
had  been  produced  by  the  action  of  the 
weather,  and  in  all  probability  chiefly 


by  rain.  In  this  case  a  "  block  of 
euphotide  or  diallage  rock  protects  a 
friable  limestone  :"  the  contrast  of  this 
dark  cap  with  the  white  base,  and  the 
singularity  of  the  form,  made  it  a  strik- 
ing object.  These  natural  pillars 
are  among  the  most  remarkable 
examples  of  the  potent  effects  pro- 
duced by  the  long  -  continued  ac- 
tion of  quiet-working  forces.  They 
are  found  in  several  other  places 
in  the  Alps,  as  well  as  elsewhere. 

The  village  of  Ville  Vieille  boasts 
of  an  inn  with  the  sign  of  the  Ele- 
phant, which,  in  the  opinion  of  local 
amateurs,  is  a  proof  that  Hannibal 
passed  through  the  gorge  of  the 
Guil.  I  remember  the  place  be- 
cause its  bread,  being  only  a  month 
old,  was  unusually  soft,  and  for  the 
first  time  during  ten  days  it  was 
possible  to  eat  some  without  first 
of  all  chopping  it  into  small  pieces 
and  soaking  it  in  hot  water,  which 
produced  a  slimy  paste  on  the  out- 
side, but  left  a  hard,  untouched 
kernel. 

The  same  day  I  crossed  the  Col 
Isoard  to  Briancon.    It  was  the  1 5th 
of  August,  and  all  the  world  was  en 
fete :  sounds  of  revelry  proceeded 
from  the  houses  of  Servieres  as  I 
passed  over  the  bridge  upon  which 
the  pyrrhic  dance  is  annually  per- 
formed, and  natives  in  all  degrees 
of  inebriation  staggered  about  the  paths. 
It  was  late  before  the  lights  of  the  great 
fortress  came   into   sight,    but   unchal- 
lenged I  passed  through  the  gates,  and 
once   more   sought   shelter   under    the 
roof  of  the  Hotel  de  1'Ours. 


-:.          i 


iz. 


CROSSING    MONT    CENTS    (l86l). 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE   MONT   CENIS — THE    FELL   RAILWAY. 

(^  UIDE-BOOKS  say  that  the  pass  of 
V_J  the  Mont  Cenis  is  dull.  It  is  long1, 
certainly,  but  it  has  a  fair  proportion  of 
picturesque  points,  and  it  is  not  easy  to 
see  how  it  can  be  dull  to  those  who 
have  eyes.  In  the  days  when  it  was  a 
rude  mountain  track,  crossed  by  trains 
of  mules,  and  when  it  was  better  known 
to  smugglers  than  to  tourists,  it  may 
have  been  dull ;  but  when  Napoleon's 
road  changed  the  rough  path  into  one 


of  the  finest  highways  in  Europe,  mount- 
ing in  grand  curves  and  by  uniform 
grades,  and  rendered  the  trot  possible 
throughout  its  entire  distance,  the  Mont 
Cenis  became  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing passes  in  the  Alps.  The  diligence 
service  which  was  established  was  ex- 
cellent, and  there  was  little  or  nothing 
to  be  gained  by  traveling  in  a  more 
expensive  manner.  The  horses  were 
changed  as  rapidly  as  on  the  best  lines 
in  the  best  period  of  coaching  in  Eng- 
land, and  the  diligences  themselves 
were  as  comfortable  as  a  "milord" 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


could  desire.  The  most  exciting  por- 
tion of  the  route  was  undoubtedly  that 
between  Lanslebourg  and  Susa.  When 
the  zigzags  began  teams  of  mules  were 
hooked  on,  and  the  driver  and  his  help- 
ers marched  by  their  side  with  long 
whips,  which  they  handled  skillfully. 
Passengers  dismounted  and  stretched 
their  legs  by  cutting  the  curves.  The 
pace  was  slow  but  steady,  and  scarcely 
a  halt  was  made  during  the  rise  of  two 
thousand  feet.  Crack  !  crack !  went  the 
whips  as  the  corners  of  the  zigzags  were 
turned.  Great  commotion  among  the 
mules  !  They  scrambled  and  went 
round  with  a  rush,  tossing  their  heads 
and  making  music  with  their  bells. 
The  summit  was  gained,  the  mules 
were  detached  and 
trotted  back  merri- 
ly, while  we,  with 
fresh  horses,  were 
dragged  at  the  gal- 
lop over  the  plain 
to  the  other  side. 
The  little  postilion 
seated  on  the  leader 
smacked  his  whip  lustily  as  he  swept 
round  the  corners  cut  through  the  rock, 
and  threw  his  head  back  as  the  echoes 
returned,  expectant  of  smiles  and  of 
future  centimes. 

The  air  was  keen  and  often  chilly, 
but  the  summit  was  soon  passed,  and 
one  quickly  descended  to  warmth  again. 
Once  more  there  was  a  change.  The 
horses,  reduced  in  number  to  three,  or 
perhaps  two,  were  the  sturdiest  and 
most  sure  of  foot,  and  they  raced  down 
with  the  precision  of  old  stagers.  Woe 
to  the  diligence  if  they  stumbled !  So 
thought  the  conductor,  who  screwed 
down  the  brakes  as  the  corners  were 
approached.  The  horses,  held  well  in 
hand,  leant  inward  as  the  top-heavy 
vehicle,  so  suddenly  checked,  heeled 
almost  over ;  but  in  another  moment 
the  brake  was  released,  and  again  they 
swept  down,  urged  onward  by  the  whip, 
"  hoi  "  and  "  ha  "  of  the  driver. 

All  this  is  changed.  The  Victor  Em- 
manuel railway  superseded  a  consider- 
able portion  of  Napoleon's  road,  and 
the  "Fell"  railway  the  rest,  while  the 


great  tunnel  of  the  Alps  will  soon  bring 
about  another  change. 

The  Fell  railway,  which  has  been 
open  about  eighteen  months,  is  a  line 
that  well  deserves  attention.  Thirty- 
eight  years  ago,  Mr.  Charles  Vignolles, 
the  eminent  engineer,  and  Mr.  Ericsson, 
patented  the  idea  which  is  now  an  ac- 
complished fact  on  the  Mont  Cenis. 
Nothing  was  done  with  it  until  Mr.  Fell, 
the  projector  of  the  railway  which  bears 
his  name,  took  it  up,  and  to  him  much 
credit  is  due  for  bringing  an  admirable 
principle  into  operation. 

The  Fell  railway  follows  the  great 
Cenis  road  very  closely,  and  diverges 
from  it  only  to  avoid  villages  or  houses, 
or,  as  at  the  summit  of  the  pass  on  the 
Italian  side,  to  ease  the  gradients.  The 
line  runs  from  St.  Michel  to  Susa.  The 
distance  between  these  two  places  is,  as 
the  crow  flies,  almost  exactly  equivalent 
to  the  distance  from  London  to  Chat- 
ham (30  miles),  but  by  reason  of  the 
numerous  curves  and  detours  the  length 
of  the  line  is  nearly  brought  up  to  the 
distance  of  London  from  Brighton  (47 
miles).  From  St.  Michel  to  the  summit 
of  the  pass  it  rises  4460  feet,  or  900  feet 
more  than  the  highest  point  of  Snowdon 
is  above  the  level  of  the  sea ;  and  from 
the  summit  of  the  pass  to  Susa,  a  dis- 
tance less  than  that  from  London  to 
Kew,  it  descends  no  less  than  521 1  feet ! 

The  railway  itself  is  a  marvel.  For 
fifteen  miles  and  three-quarters  it  has 
steeper  gradients  than  one  in  fifteen. 
In  some  places  it  is  one  in  twelve  and  a 
half!  A  straight  piece  of  railway  con- 
structed on  such  a  gradient  seems  to  go 
up  a  steep  hill.  One  in  eighty,  or  even 
one  in  a  hundred,  produces  a  very  sen- 
sible diminution  in  the  pace  of  a  light 
train  drawn  by  an  ordinary  locomotive  : 
how,  then,  is  a  train  to  be  taken  up  an 
incline  that  is  six  times  as  steep  ?  It  is 
accomplished  by  means  of  a  third  rail 
placed  midway  between  the  two  ordi- 
nary ones,  and  elevated  above  them.* 
The  engines  are  provided  with  two  pairs 

*  This  third  rail,  or,  as  it  is  termed,  "  the  centre 
rail,"  is  laid  on  all  the  steep  portions  of  the  line  and 
round  all  except  the  mildest  curves.  Thirty  miles,  in 
all,  of  the  road  have  the  centre  rail. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860- 


of  horizontal  driving-wheels,  as  well  as 
with  the  ordinary  coupled  vertical  ones, 
and  the  power  of  the  ma- 
chine is  thus  enormously 
increased,  the  horizontal 
wheels  gripping  the  centre 
rail  with  great  tenacity  by 
being  brought  together,  and 
being  almost  incapable  of 
slipping  like  the  ordinary 
wheels  when  on  even  a  mod- 
erate gradient. 

The  third  rail  is  the  ordi- 
nary double-headed  rail, 
and  is  laid  horizontally :  it 
is  bolted  down  to  wrought- 
iron  chairs  three  feet  apart, 
which  are  fixed  by  common 
coach-screws  to  a  longitudinal  sleeper 
laid  upon  the  usual  transverse  ones  :  the 


sleepers  are  attached  to  each  other  by 
fang-bolts.     The  dimensions  of  the  dif- 


THE  CENTRE  RAIL  ON  A  CURVE. 

ferent  parts  will  be  seen  by  reference  to 
the  annexed  cross  section  : 


JL       m 

JL 

5  '.         j.         s  j 

SCALE     01 
3 


Let  us  now  take  a  run  on  the  railway, 
starting  from  St.  Michel.  For  some 
distance  from  that  place  the  gradients 
are  not  of  an  extraordinary  character, 
and  a  good  pace  is  maintained.  The 
first  severe  piece  is  about  two  miles  up, 
where  there  is  an  incline  of  one  in  eigh- 
teen for  more  than  half  a  mile  ;  that  is 
to  say,  the  line  rises  at  one  step  one 
hundred  and  sixty  -  four  feet.  From 
thence  to  Modane  the  gradients  are 
again  moderate  (for  the  Fell  railway), 
and  the  distance — about  ten  miles  and 
a  half  from  St.  Michel — is  accomplished 
without  difficulty  in  an  hour.  Modane 
station  is  1128  feet  above  St.  Michel,  so 
that  on  this  easy  portion  of  the  line 
there  is  an  average  rise  of  no  feet  per 
mile,  which  is  equal  to  a  gradient  of 
one  in  forty-eight — an  inclination  suf- 
ficiently steep  to  bring  an  ordinary  loco- 
motive very  nearly  to  a  halt. 

Just    after    passing    Modane    station 


there  is  one  of  the  steepest  inclines  on 
the  line,  and  it  seems  preposterous  to 
suppose  that  any  train  could  ascend  it. 
A  stoppage  of  ten  minutes  is  made  at 
Modane,  and  on  leaving  that  station 
the  train  goes  off  at  the  hill  with  a  rush. 
In  a  few  yards  its  pace  is  reduced,  and 
it  comes  down  and  down  to  about  four 
miles  an  hour,  which  speed  is  usually 
maintained  until  the  incline  is  passed, 
without  a  diminution  of  the  steam-press- 
ure. I  say  usually,  because,  if  it  should 
happen  that  there  is  not  sufficient  steam, 
or  should  the  driver  happen  to  make  a 
slip,  the  train  would  most  likely  come 
back  to  Modane ;  for,  although  the 
brake-power  on  the  train  is  much  more 
than  sufficient  to  prevent  it  running 
back,  the  driver  could  hardly  start  with 
the  brakes  on,  and  the  train  would  in- 
evitably run  back  if  they  were  off. 

After  this  incline  is  passed,  the  line 
mounts  by  comparatively  easy  gradients 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69 


33 


toward  Fort  Lesseillon  :  it  is  then  at  a 
great  height  above  the  Arc,  and  as  one 
winds  round  the  faces  of  the  cliff  out 
of  which  the  Napoleon  road  was  cut, 
looking  clown  upon  the  foaming  stream 
below,  without  a  suspicion  of  a  parapet 
between  the  railway  and  the  edge  of 
the  precipice,  one  naturally  thinks  about 
what  would  happen  if  the  engine  should 
leave  the  rails.  The  speed,  however, 
that  is  kept  up  at  this  part  is  very  gentle, 
and  there  is  probably  much  less  risk  of 
an  accident  than  there  was  in  the  days 
of  diligences. 

The  next  remarkable  point  on  this 
line  is  at  Termignon.  The  valley  turns 
somewhat  abruptly  to  the  east,  and  the 


j  course  of  the  railway  is  not  at  first  per- 
ceived. It  makes  a  great  bend  to  the 
left,  then  doubles  back,  and  rises  in  a 
little  more  than  a  mile  no  less  than 
three  hundred  and  thirty -four  feet. 
This  is,  perhaps,  the  most  striking  piece 
of  the  whole  line. 

Lanslebourg  station,  25^  miles  from, 
and  2220  feet  above,  St.  Michel,  is  ar- 
rived at  in  two  hours  and  a  quarter 
from  the  latter  place.  The  engines  are 
now  changed.  Thus  far  we  have  been 
traversing  the  easy  portion  of  the  route, 
but  here  the  heavy  section  begins. 
From  Lanslebourg  the  line  rises  con- 
tinuously to  the  summit  of  the  Mont 
Cenis  pass,  and  accomplishes  an  ascent 


Till:    COVERED    WAY: 


of  2240  feet  in  six  miles  and  a  third  of 
distance. 

It  is  curious  and  interesting  to  watch 
the  ascent  of  the  trains  from  Lansle- 
bourg. The  puffs  of  steam  are  seen 
rising  above  the  trees,  sometimes  going 
in  one  direction,  and  sometimes  directly 
the  contrary,  occasionally  concealed  by 
the  covered  ways — for  over  two  miles 
out  of  the  six  the  line  is  enclosed  by 
planked  sides  and  a  corrugated  iron 
roof,  to  keep  out  the  snow — and  then 
coming  out  again  into  daylight.  A  halt 
for  water  has  to  be  made  about  halfway 
up  ;  but  the  engines  are  able  to  start 
again,  and  to  resume  their  rate  of  seven 
miles  an  hour,  although  the  gradient  is 
no  less  than  one  in  fourteen  and  a  half. 

3 


The  zigzags  of  the  old  Cenis  road  are 
well  known  as  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able pieces  of  road-engineering  in  the 
Alps.  The  railway  follows  them,  and 
runs  parallel  to  the  road  on  the  outside 
throughout  its  entire  distance,  with  the 
exception  of  the  turns  at  the  corners, 
where  it  is  carried  a  little  farther  out,  to 
render  the  curves  less  sharp.  Never- 
theless, they  are  sufficiently  sharp  (135 
feet  radius),  and  would  be  impracticable 
without  the  centre  rail. 

The  run  across  the  top  of  the  pass, 
from  the  Summit  station  to  the  Grande 
Croix  station — a  distance  of  about  five 
miles — is  soon  accomplished,  and  then 
the  tremendous  descent  to  Susa  is  com- 
menced. This,  as  seen  from  the  engine, 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  iS6o-'69. 


is  little  less  than  terrific.  A  large  part 
of  this  section  is  covered  in,  and  the 
curves  succeed  one  another  in  a  man- 
ner unknown  on  any  other  line.  From 
the  outside  the  line  looks  more  like  a 
monstrous  serpent  than  a  railway.  In- 
side, one  can  see  but  a  few  yards  ahead, 
the  curves  are  so  sharp,  and  the  rails 
are  nearly  invisible.  The  engine  vi- 
brates, oscillates  and  bounds  :  it  is  a 
matter  of  difficulty  to  hold  on.  Then, 
on  emerging  into  the  open  air,  one  looks 
down  some  three  or  four  thousand  feet 
of  precipice  and  steep  mountain-side. 
The  next  moment  the  engine  turns  sud- 
denly to  the  left,  and  driver  and  stoker 
have  to  grip  firmly  to  avoid  being  left 
behind  ;  the  next,  it  turns  as  suddenly 
to  the  right ;  the  next,  there  is  an  ac- 
cession or  diminution  of  speed  from  a 
change  in  the  gradient.  An  ordinary 
engine,  moving  at  fifty  miles  an  hour, 
with  a  train  behind  it,  is  not'  usually 
very  steady,  but  its  motion  is  a  trifle 
compared  with  that  of  a  Fell  engine 
when  running  down  hill. 

It  may  be  supposed  from  this  that 
traveling  over  the  Fell  railway  is  dis- 
agreeable rather  than  pleasant.  It  is 
not  so  :  the  train  is  steady  enough,  and 
the  carriages  have  remarkably  little  mo- 
tion. Outside,  they  resemble  the  cars 
on  the  Swiss  and  American  lines  :  they 
are  entered  at  the  end,  and  the  seats 
are  arranged  omnibus-fashion,  down 
the  length  of  the  carriage.  Each  car- 
riage has  a  guard  and  two  brakes — an 
ordinary  one  and  a  centre-rail  brake  : 
the  handles  of  these  come  close  to- 
gether at  the  platform  on  one  end,  and 
are  easily  worked  by  one  man.  The 
steadiness  of  the  train  is  chiefly  due  to 
these  centre-rail  brakes.  The  flat  face 
A  and  the  corresponding  one  on  the  op- 
posite side  are  brought  together  against 
the  two  sides  of  the  centre  rail  by  the 
shaft  B  being  turned,  and  they  hold  it 
as  in  a  vice.  This  greatly  diminishes 
the  up-and-down  motion,  and  renders 
oscillation  almost  impossible.  The 
steadiness  of  the  train  is  still  further 
maintained  by  pairs  of  flanged  guide- 
wheels  under  each  of  the  carriages, 
which,  on  a  straight  piece  of  line,  bare- 


ly touch  the  centre  rail,  but  press  upon 
it  directly  there  is  the  least  deviation 
toward  either  side.*  There  is  no  occa- 


w 

CENTRE-RAIL    BRAKE. 


sion  to  use  the  other  brakes  when  the 
centre-rail  brakes  are  on  :  the  wheels 
of  the  carriages  are  not  stopped,  but 
revolve  freely,  and  consequently  do  not 
suffer  the  deterioration  which  would 
otherwise  result. 

The  steam  is  shut  off  and  the  brakes 
are  applied  a  very  few  minutes  after  be- 
ginning the  descent  to  Susa.  The  train 
might  then  run  down  for  the  entire  dis- 
tance by  its  own  weight.  In  practice, 
it  is  difficult  to  apply  the  proper  amount 
of  retardation :  the  brakes  have  fre- 
quently to  be  whistled  off,  and  some- 
times it  is  necessary  to  steam  down 
against  them.  Theoretically,  this  ought 
not  of  course  to  occur  :  it  only  happens 
occasionally,  and  ordinarily  the  train 
goes  down  with  the  steam,  shut  off,  and 
with  the  centre-rail  brakes  screwed  up 
moderately.  When  an  average  train — 
that  is,  two  or  three  carriages  and  a 
luggage-van — is  running  down  at  the 
maximum  speed  allowed  (fifteen  miles 
an  hour),  the  brakes  can  pull  it  up  dead 
within  seventy  yards.  The  pace  is  prop- 
erly kept  down  to  a  low  point  in  descend- 
ing, and  doing  so,  combined  with  the 
knowledge  that  the  brake-power  can 
easily  lessen  it,  will  tend  to  make  the 
public  look  favorably  on  what  might 
otherwise  be  considered  a  dangerous 
innovation.  The  engines  also  are  pro- 
vided with  the  centre-rail  brake,  on  a 

*  The  carriages  are  not  coupled  in  the  ordinary  way, 
and  although  there  are  no  buffers,  properly  speaking, 
and  in  spite  af  the  speed  of  the  train  being  changed  in- 
cessantly, there  is  a  freedom  from  the  jarring  which  is 
so  common  on  other  lines.  The  reason  is  simply  that 
the  carriages  are  coupled  up  tightly. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


35 


pattern  somewhat  different  from  those 
on  the  carriages,  and  the  flat  sides 
which  press  against  the  rails  are  renew- 
ed every  journey.  It  is  highly  desirable 
that  they  should  be,  for  a  single  run 
from  Lanslebourg  to  Susa  grinds  a 
groove  into  them  about  three-eighths 
of  an  inch  in  depth. 

Driving  the  trains  over  the  summit 
section  requires  the  most  constant  at- 
tention and  no  small  amount  of  nerve, 
and  the  drivers,  who  are  all  English, 
have  well  earned  their  money  at  the 
end  of  their  run.  Their  opinion  of  the 
line  was  concisely  and  forcibly  express- 
ed to  me  by  one  of  them  in  last  August : 
"  Yes,  mister,  they  told  us  as  how  the  line 
was  very  steep,  but  they  didn't  say  that 
the  engine  would  be  on  one  curve,  when 
the  fourgon  was  on  another,  and  the 
carriages  was  on  a  third.  Them  gra- 
dients, too,  mister,  they  says  they  are 
one  in  twelve,  but  I  think  they  are  one 
in  ten,  at  the  least,  and  they  didn't  say 
as  how  we  was  to  come  down  them  in 
that  snakewise  fashion.  It's  worse  than 
the  G.  I.  P.,*  mister:  there  a  fellow 
could  jump  off,  but  here,  in  them  cov- 
ered ways,  there  ain't  no  place  to  jump 
to." 


CHAPTER   IV. 
MY  FIRST  SCRAMBLE  ON  THE  MATTERHORN. 

"  What  power  must  have  been  required  to  shatter 
and  to  sweep  away  the  missing  parts  of  this  pyramid  ; 
for  we  do  not  see  it  surrounded  by  heaps  of  fragments  : 
one  only  sees  other  peaks— themselves  rooted  to  the 
ground — whose  sides,  equally  rent,  indicate  an  im- 
mense mass  of  debris,  of  which  we  do  not  see  any 
trace  in  the  neighborhood.  Doubtless  this  is  that 
debris  which,  in  the  form  of  pebbles,  boulders  and 
sand,  fills  our  valleys  and  our  plains." — DE  SAUSSURE. 

Two  summits  amongst  those  in  the 
Alps  which  yet  remained  virgin  had  ex- 
cited my  admiration.  One  of  these  had 
been  attacked  numberless  times  by  the 
best  mountaineers  without  success  :  the 
ether,  surrounded  by  traditional  inacces- 
sibility, was  almost  untouched.  These 

*The  Great  Indian  Peninsula  Railway,  the  line 
with  the  celebrated  Bhore  Ghaut  incline,  sixteen  miles 
long,  on  an  average  gradient  of  one  in  forty-eight, 
which  is  said  to  have  cost  ,£800,000,  or  about  double 
the  entire  cost  of  the  Mount  Cenis  Railway,  and  six 
times  its  cost  mile  for  mile.  The  Fell  railway  cost 
;£8ooo  per  mile. 


mountains  were  the  Weisshorn  and  the 
Matterhorn. 

After  visiting  the  great  tunnel  of  the 
Alps  in  1861,  I  wandered  for  ten  days 
in  the  neighboring  valleys,  intending 
presently  to  attempt  the  ascent  of  these 
two  peaks.  Rumors  were  floating  about 
that  the  former  had  been  conquered, 
and  that  the  latter  was  shortly  to  be  at- 
tacked, and  they  were  confirmed  on 
my  arrival  at  Chatillon,  at  the  entrance 
of  the  Val  Tournanche.  My  interest  in 
the  Weisshorn  abated,  but  it  was  raised 
to  the  highest  pitch  on  hearing  that 
Professor  Tyndall  was  at  Breuil,  and 
intending  to  try  to  crown  his  first  victory 
by  another  and  a  still  greater  one. 

Up  to  this  time  my  experience  with 
guides  had  not  been  fortunate,  and  I  was 
inclined,  improperly,  to  rate  them  at  a 
low  value.  They  represented  to  me 
pointers-out  of  paths  and  great  con- 
sumers of  meat  and  drink,  but  little 
more ;  and,  with  the  recollection  of 
Mont  Pelvoux,  I  should  have  greatly 
preferred  the  company  of  a  couple  of 
my  countrymen  to  any  number  of 
guides.  In  answer  to  inquiries  at  Cha- 
tillon, a  series  of  men  came  forward 
whose  faces  expressed  malice,  pride, 
envy,  hatred  and  roguery  of  every  de- 
scription, but  who  seemed  to  be  desti- 
tute of  all  good  qualities.  The  arrival 
of  two  gentlemen  with  a  guide,  who 
they  represented  was  the  embodiment 
of  every  virtue  and  exactly  the  man  for 
the  Matterhorn,  rendered  it  unnecessary 
to  engage  any  of  the  others.  My  new 
guide  in  physique  was  a  combination  of 
Chang  and  Anak  ;  and  although  in  ac- 
quiring him  I  did  not  obtain  exactly 
what  was  wanted,  his  late  employers 
did  exactly  what  they  wanted,  for  I  ob- 
tained the  responsibility,  without  know- 
ledge, of  paying  his  back  fare,  which 
must  have  been  a  relief  at  once  to  their 
minds  and  to  their  purses. 

When  walking  up  toward  Breuil,  we 
inquired  for  another  man  of  all  the 
knowing  ones,  and  they,  with  one  voice, 
proclaimed  that  Jean-Antoine  Carrel, 
of  the  village  of  Val  Tournanche,  was 
the  cock  of  his  valley.  We  sought,  of 
course,  for  Carrel,  and  found  him  a 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


well-made,  resolute-looking  fellow,  with 
a  certain  defiant  air  which  was  rather 
taking.  Yes,  he  would  go.  Twenty 
francs  a  day,  whatever  was  the  result, 
was  his  price.  I  assented.  But  I  must 
take  his  comrade.  "Why  so?"  Oh,  it 
was  absolutely  impossible  to  get  along 
without  another  man.  As  he  said  this 
an  evil  countenance  came  forth  out  of 
the  darkness  and  proclaimed  itself  the 
comrade.  I  demurred,  the  negotiations 
broke  off,  and  we  went  up  to  Breuil. 
This  place  will  be  frequently  mentioned 
in  subsequent  chapters,  and  was  in  full 
view  of  the  extraordinary  peak  the  as- 
cent of  which  we  were  about  to  attempt. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  enter  into  a  mi- 
nute description  of  the  Matterhorn  after 
all  that  has  been  written  about  that  fa- 
mous mountain.  My  readers  will  know 
that  that  peak  is  nearly  fifteen  thousand 
feet  high,  and  that  it  rises  abruptly,  by 
a  series  of  cliffs  which  may  properly  be 
termed  precipices,  a  clear  five  thousand 
feet  above  the  glaciers  which  surround 
its  base.  They  will  know,  too,  that  it 
was  the  last  great  Alpine  peak  which 
remained  unsealed — less  on  account  of 
the  difficulty  of  doing  so  than  from  the 
terror  inspired  by  its  invincible  appear- 
ance. There  seemed  to  be  a  cordon 
drawn  around  it,  up  to  which  one  might 
go,  but  no  farther.  Within  that  invisible 
line  jins  and  affreets  were  supposed  to 
exist — the  Wandering  Jew  and  the  spirits 
of  the  damned.  The  superstitious  na- 
tives in  the  surrounding  valleys  (many 
of  whom  still  firmly  believe  it  to  be  not 
only  the  highest  mountain  in  the  Alps, 
but  in  the  world)  spoke  of  a  ruined  city 
on  its  summit  wherein  the  spirits  dwelt ; 
and  if  you  laughed  they  gravely  shook 
their  heads,  told  you  to  look  yourself  to 
see  the  castles  and  the  walls,  and  warn- 
ed one  against  a  rash  approach,  lest  the 
"infuriate  demons  from  their  impregna- 
ble heights  might  hurl  down  vengeance 
for  one's  derision.  Such  were  the  tra- 
ditions of  the  natives.  Stronger  minds 
felt  the  influence  of  the  wonderful  form, 
and  men  who  ordinarily  spoke  or  wrote 
like  rational  beings,  when  they  came 
under  its  power  seemed  to  quit  their 


senses  and  ranted  and  rhapsodized, 
losing  for  a  time  all  common  forms  of 
speech.  Even  the  sober  De  Saussure 
was  moved  to  enthusiasm  when  he  saw 
the  mountain,  and,  inspired  by  the 
spectacle,  he  anticipated  the  specula- 
tions of  modern  geologists  in  the  strik- 
ing sentences  which  are  placed  at  the 
head  of  this  chapter. 

The  Matterhorn  looks  equally  impos- 
ing from  whatever  side  it  is  seen :  it  never 
seems  commonplace,  and  in  this  re- 
spect, and  in  regard  to  the  impression  it 
makes  upon  spectators,  it  stands  almost 
alone  amongst  mountains.  It  has  no 
rivals  in  the  Alps,  and  but  few  in  the 
world. 

The  seven  or  eight  thousand  feet 
which  compose  the  actual  peak  have 
several  well-marked  ridges  and  numer- 
ous others.  The  most  continuous  is  that 
which  leads  toward  the  north-east :  the 
summit  is  at  its  higher,  and  the  little 
peak  called  the  Hornli  is  at  its  lower, 
end.  Another  one  that  is  well  pro- 
nounced descends  from  the  summit  to 
the  ridge  called  the  Furgen  Grat.  The 
slope  of  the  mountain  that  is  between 
these  two  ridges  will  be  referred  to  as 
the  eastern  face.  A  third,  somewhat  less 
continuous  than  the  others,  descends  in 
a  south-westerly  direction,  and  the  por- 
tion of  the  mountain  that  is  seen  from 
Breuil  is  confined  to  that  which  is  com- 
prised between  this  and  the  second 
ridge.  This  section  is  not  composed, 
like  that  between  the  first  and  second 
ridge,  of  one  grand  face,  but  it  is  broken 
up  into  a  series  of  huge  precipices,  spot- 
ted with  snow-slopes  and  streaked  with 
snow-gullies.  The  other  half  of  the 
mountain,  facing  the  Z'Mutt  glacier,  is 
not  capable  of  equally  simple  definition. 
There  are  precipices  apparent  but  not 
actual ;  there  are  precipices  absolutely 
perpendicular ;  there  are  precipices  over- 
hanging ;  there  are  glaciers  and  there 
are  hanging  glaciers  ;  there  are  glaciers 
which  tumble  great  seracs  over  greater 
cliffs,  whose  debris,  subsequently  con- 
solidated, becomes  glacier  again  ;  there 
are  ridges  split  by  the  frost,  and  washed 
by  the  rain  and  melted  snow  into  towers 
and  spires  ;  while  everywhere  there  are 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


37 


ceaseless  sounds  of  action,  telling  that 
the  causes  are  still  in  operation  which 
have  been  at  work  since  the  world 
began,  reducing  the  mighty  mass  to 
atoms  and  effecting  its  degradation. 


Most  tourists  obtain  their  first  view 
of  the  mountain  either  from  the  valley 
of  Zermatt  or  from  that  of  Tournanche. 
From  the  former  direction  the  base  of 
the  mountain  is  seen  at  its  narrowest, 


SUMMIT  (M78o) 


SOUTH-EAST    RIDGH 


DIRECTION  OF 
THE  Z'MUTT  GLACIER 


THE    HORNLI    (9492) 


THB   MATTERHORN    FROM    THE   NORTH-EAST. 


and  its  ridges  and  faces  seem  to  be  of 
prodigious  steepness.  The  tourist  toils 
up  the  valley,  looking  frequently  for 
the  great  sight  which  is  to  reward  his 
pains,  without  seeing  it  (for  the  moun- 
tain is  first  perceived  in  that  direction 
about  a  mile  to  the  north  of  Zermatt), 
when  all  at  once,  as  he  turns  a  rocky 
corner  of  the  path,  it  comes  into  view, 
not,  however,  where  it  is  expected :  the 
face  has  to  be  raised  up  to  look  at  it — 
it  seems  overhead.  Although  this  is 
the  impression,  the  fact  is  that  the  sum- 
mit of  the  Matterhorn  from  this  point 
makes  an  angle  with  the  eye  of  less 
than  1 6°,  while  the  Dom,  from  the  same 
place,  makes  a  larger  angle,  but  is  pass- 
ed by  unobserved.  So  little  can  de- 
pendence be  placed  on  unaided  vision. 
The  view  of  the  mountain  from  Breuil, 
in  the  Val  Tournanche,  is  not  less  strik- 


ing than  that  on  the  other  side,  but 
usually  it  makes  less  impression,  be- 
cause the  spectator  grows  accustomed 
to  the  sight  while  coming  up  or  down 
the  valley.  From  this  direction  the 
mountain  is  seen  to  be  broken  up  into 
a  series  of  pyramidal,  wedge-shaped 
masses :  on  the  other  side  it  is  remark- 
able for  the  large,  unbroken  extent  of 
cliffs  that  it  presents,  and  for  the  sim- 
plicity of  its  outline.  It  was  natural  to 
suppose  that  a  way  would  more  readily 
be  found  to  the  summit  on  a  side  thus 
broken  up  than  in  any  other  direction. 
The  eastern  face,  fronting  Zermatt, 
seemed  one  smooth,  impossible  cliff 
from  summit  to  base  :  the  ghastly  preci- 
pices which  face  the  Z'Mutt  glacier  for- 
bade any  attempt  in  that  direction. 
There  remained  only  the  side  of  Val 
Tournanche,  and  it  will  be  found  that 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


nearly  all  the  earliest  attempts  to  ascend 
the  mountain  were  made  on  that  side. 

The  first  efforts  to  ascend  the  Matter- 
horn  of  which  I  have  heard  were  made 
by  the  guides — or  rather  by  the  chas- 
seurs— of  Val  Tournanche.  These  at- 
tempts were  made  in  the  years  1858-' 59, 
from  the  direction  of  Breuil,  and  the 
highest  point  that  was  attained  was 
about  as  far  as  the  place  which  is  now 
called  the  "Chimney"  (cheminee),  a 
height  of  about  twelve  thousand  six 
hundred  and  fifty  feet.  Those  who 
were  concerned  in  these  expeditions 
were  Jean-Antoine  Carrel,  Jean  Jacques 
Carrel,  Victor  Carrel,  the  Abbe  Gorret 
and  Gabrielle  Maquignaz.  I  have  been 
unable  to  obtain  any  further  details 
about  them. 

The  next  attempt  was  a  remarkable 
one ;  and  of  it,  too,  there  is  no  publish- 
ed account.     It  was  made  by  Messrs. 
Alfred,  Charles  and  Sandbach  Parker, 
of  Liverpool,   in   July,    1860.      These 
gentlemen,  without  guides,  endeavored 
to  storm  the  citadel  by  attacking  the 
eastern  face,  that  to  which  reference 
was  just  now  made  as  a  smooth,  im- 
practicable cliff.     Mr.  Sandbach  Park- 
er informs  me  that  he  and  his  brothers 
went  along  the  ridge  between  the  Horn- 
ii  and  the  peak  until  they  came  to  the 
point   where   the    ascending    angle  is 
considerably  increased.     This  place  is 
marked  on   Dufour's  map  of  Switzer- 
land 3298  metres  (10,820  feet).     They 
were  then  obliged  to  bear  a  little  to  the 
left  to  get  on  to  the  face  of  the  moun- 
tain, and  afterward  they  turned  to  the 
right  and   ascended   about  seven  hun- 
dred feet  farther,  keeping  as  nearly  as 
was  practicable  to  the  crest  of  the  ridge, 
but  occasionally  bearing  a  little  to  the 
left ;  that  is,  more  on  to  the  face  of  the 
mountain.     The  brothers  started  from 
Zermatt,  and  did  not  sleep  out.     Clouds, 
a  high  wind  and  want  of  time  were  the 
causes  which   prevented   these   daring 
gentlemen  from  going  farther.      Thus 
their   highest   point  was   under  twelve 
thousand  feet. 

The  third  attempt  upon  the  mountain 
was  made  toward  the  end  of  August, 
1860,  by  Mr.  Vaughan  Hawkins,  from 


the  side  of  the  Val  Tournanche.  A  vivid 
account  of  his  expedition  has  been  pub- 
lished by  him  in  "Vacation  Tourists," 
and  it  has  been  referred  to  several  times 
by  Professor  Tyndall  in  the  numerous 
papers  he  has  contributed  to  Alpine  lit- 
erature. I  will  dismiss  it,  therefore,  as 
briefly  as  possible. 

Mr.  Hawkins  had  inspected  the  moun- 
tain in  1859  with  the  guide  J.  J.  Bennen, 
and  he  had  formed  the  opinion  that  the 
south-west  ridge  would  lead  to  the  sum- 
mit. He  engaged  J.  Jacques  Carrel,  who 
was  concerned  in  the  first  attempts,  and, 
accompanied  by  Bennen  (and  by  Pro- 


J.  J.  BENNEN  (1862). 

fessor  Tyndall,  whom  he  had  invited  to 
take  part  in  the  expedition),  he  started 
for  the  gap  between  the  little  and  the 
great  peak. 

Bennen  was  a  guide  who  was  begin- 
ning to  be  talked  about.  During  the 
chief  part  of  his  brief  career  he  was  in 
the  service  of  Wellig,  the  landlord  of 
the  inn  on  the  ^Eggischhorn,  and  was 
hired  out  by  him  to  tourists.  Although 
his  experience  was  limited,  he  had  ac- 
quired a  good  reputation  ;  and  his  book 
of  certificates,  which  is  lying  before  me, 
shows  that  he  was  highly  esteemed  by 
his  employers.  A  good-looking  man, 
with  courteous,  gentlemanly  manners, 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN   1860-' 69. 


39 


skillful  and  bold,  he  might  by  this  time 
have  taken  a  front  place  amongst  guides 
if  he  had  only  been  endowed  with  more 
prudence.  He  perished  miserably  in 
the  spring  of  1864  not  far  from  his  home, 
on  a  mountain  called  the  Haut  de  Cry, 
in  the  Valais. 

Mr.  Hawkins'  party,  led  by  Bennen, 
climbed  the  rocks  abutting  against  the 
Couloir  du  Lion  on  its  south  side,  and 
attained  the  Col  du  Lion,  although  not 
without  difficulty.  They  then  followed 
the  south-west  ridge,  passed  the  place  at 
which  the  earliest  explorers  had  turned 
back  (the  Chimney),  and  ascended  about 
three  hundred  feet  more.  Mr.  Hawkins 
and  J.  J.  Carrel  then  stopped,  but  Ben- 
nen and  Professor  Tyndall  mounted  a 
few  feet  higher.  They  retreated,  how- 
ever, in  less  than  half  an  hour,  finding 
that  there  was  too  little  time,  and,  de- 
scending to  the  col  by  the  same  route 
as  they  had  followed  on  the  ascent,  pro- 
ceeded thence  to  Breuil — down  the  cou- 
loir instead  of  by  the  rocks.  The  point 
at  which  Mr.  Hawkins  stopped  is  easily 
identified  from  his  description.  Its 
height  is  12,992  feet  above  the  sea.  I 
think  that  Bennen  and  Tyndall  could 
not  have  ascended  more  than  fifty  or 
sixty  feet  beyond  this  in  the  few  minutes 
they  were  absent  from  the  others,  as 
they  were  upon  one  of  the  most  difficult 
parts  of  the  mountain.  This  party 
therefore  accomplished  an  advance  of 
about  three  hundred  and  fifty  or  four 
hundred  feet. 

Mr.  Hawkins  did  not,  as  far  as  I 
know,  make  another  attempt ;  and  the 
next  was  made  by  the  Messrs.  Parker 
in  July,  1861.  They  again  started  from 
Zermatt,  followed  the  route  they  had 
struck  out  on  the  previous  year,  and 
got  a  little  higher  than  before  ;  but  they 
were  defeated  by  want  of  time,  left  Zer- 
matt shortly  afterward  on  account  of 
bad  weather,  and  did  not  again  renew 
their  attempts.  Mr.  Parker  says:  "In 
neither  case  did  we  go  as  high  as  we 
could.  At  the  point  where  we  turned 
we  saw  our  way  for  a  few  hundred  feet 
farther,  but  beyond  that  the  difficulties 
seemed  to  increase."  I  am  informed 
that  both  attempts  should  be  considered 


as  excursions  undertaken  with  the  view 
of  ascertaining  whether  there  was  any 
encouragement  to  make  a  more  delib- 
erate attack  on  the  north-east  side. 

My  guide  and  I  arrived  at  Breuil  on 
the  28th  of  August,  1861,  and  we  found 
that  Professor  Tyndall  had  been  there 
a  day  or  two  before,  but  had  done  noth- 
ing. I  had  seen  the  mountain  from 
nearly  every  direction,  and  it  seemed, 
even  to  a  novice  like  myself,  far  too 
much  for  a  single  day.  I  intended  to 
sleep  out  upon  it  as  high  as  possible, 
and  to  attempt  to  reach  the  summit  on 
the  following  day.  We  endeavored  to. 
induce  another  man  to  accompany  us, 
but  without  success.  Matthias  zum 
Taugwald  and  other  well-known  guides 
were  there  at  the  time,  but  they  declined 
to  go  on  any  account.  A  sturdy  old 
fellow — Peter  Taugwalder  by  name — 
said  he  would  go.  His  price?  "Two 
hundred  francs."  "What!  whether  we 
ascend  or  not?"  "Yes — nothing  less." 
The  end  of  the  matter  was,  that  all  the 
men  who  were  more  or  less  capable 
showed  a  strong  disinclination  or  posi- 
tively refused  to  go  (their  disinclination 
being  very  much  in  proportion  to  their 
capacity),  or  else  asked  a  prohibitive 
price.  This,  it  may  be  said  once  for  all, 
was  the  reason  why  so  many  futile  at- 
tempts were  made  upon  the  Matter- 
horn.  One  first-rate  guide  after  an- 
other was  brought  up  to  the  mountain 
and  patted  on  the  back,  but  all  declined 
the  business.  The  men  who  went  had 
no  heart  in  the  matter,  and  took  the  first 
opportunity  to  turn  back,*  for  they  were, 
with  the  exception  of  one  man — to  whom 
reference  will  be  made  presently — uni- 
versally impressed  with  the  belief  that 
the  summit  was  entirely  inaccessible. 

We  resolved  to  go  alone,  but,  antici- 
pating a  cold  bivouac,  begged  the  loan 
of  a  couple  of  blankets  from  the  inn- 
keeper. He  refused  them,  giving  the 
curious  reason  that  we  had  bought  a 
bottle  of  brandy  at  Val  Tournanche, 
and  had  not  bought  any  from  him  !  No 
brandy,  no  blankets,  appeared  to  be  his 
rule.  We  did  not  require  them  that 

*The  guide  Bennen  must  be  excepted. 


4° 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


night,  as  it  was  passed  in  the  highest 
cow-shed  in  the  valley,  which  is  about 
an  hour  nearer  to  the  mountain  than  is 
the  hotel.  The  cowherds,  worthy  fel- 
lows seldom  troubled  by  tourists,  hailed 
our  company  with  delight,  and  did  their 
best  to  make  us  comfortable,  brought 
out  their  little  stores  of  simple  food,  and, 
as  we  sat  with  them  round  the  great 
copper  pot  which  hung  over  the  fire, 
bade  us  in  husky  voice,  but  with  honest 
intent,  to  beware  of  the  perils  of  the 
haunted  clitTs.  When  night  was  com- 
ing on  we  saw  stealing  up  the  hillside 
the  forms  of  Jean-Antoine  Carrel  and 
the  comrade.  "Oh  ho!"  I  said, 
"you  have  repented?' 
"  Not  at  all :  you  deceive 
yourself."  "Why, 
then,  have  you 
come  here  ?"  "Be- 
cause we  our- 
selves are  go- 
ing on  the 
mountain  to- 
rn o  r  r  o  w  ." 
"Oh,  then  it  is 
not  necessary 
to  have  more 
than  three  ?" 
"Not  for  us."  I 
admired  their 
pluck,  and  had  a 
strong  inclination  to 
engage  the  pair,  but  final- 
ly decided  against  it.  The 

Comrade    turned    OUt   to  be       JEAN-ANTOINE 

the  J.  J.  Carrel   who  had 

been  with  Mr.  Hawkins,  and  was  nearly 

related  to  the  other  man. 

Both  were  bold  mountaineers,  but 
Jean  -  Antoine  was  incomparably  the 
better  man  of  the  two,  and  he  is  the 
finest  rock-climber  I  have  ever  seen. 
He  was  the  only  man  who  persistently 
refused  to  accept  defeat,  and  who  con- 
tinued to  believe,  in  spite  of  all  discour- 
agements, that  the  great  mountain  was 
not  inaccessible,  and  that  it  could  be 
ascended  from  the  side  of  his  native 
valley. 

The  night  wore  away  without  any  ex- 
citement, except  from  the  fleas,  a  party 
of  whom  executed  a  spirited  fandango 


on  my  cheek  to  the  sound  of  music  pro- 
duced on  the  drum  of  my  ear  by  one 
of  their  fellows  beating  with  a  wisp  of 
hay.  The  two  Carrels  crept  noiselessly 
out  before  daybreak,  and  went  off.  We 
did  not  leave  until  nearly  seven  o'clock, 
and  followed  them  leisurely,  leaving  all 
our  properties  in  the  cow-shed,  saunter- 
ed over  the  gentian- studded  slopes  which 
intervene  between  the  shed  and  the  Gla- 
cier du  Lion,  left  cows  and  their  pastures 
behind,  traversed  the  stony  wastes  and 
arrived  at  the  ice.  Old,  hard  beds  of 
snow  lay  on  its  right  bank  (our  left 
hand),  and  we  mounted  over  them  on 
to  the  lower  portion  of  the  gla- 
cier with  ease.  But  as  we 
ascended  crevasses  be- 
came numerous,  and 
we  were  at  last 
brought  to  a  halt 
by  some  which 
were  of  very 
large  dimen- 
sions ;  and  as 
our  cutting 
powers  were 
limited,  we 
sought  an  easier 
route,  and  turned 
naturally  to  the 
lower  rocks  of  the 
Tete  du  Lion,  which 
overlook  the  glacier  on 
its  west.  Some  good 
scrambling  took  us  in  a 
CARREL  (1869).  short  time  on  to  the  crest 
of  the  ridge  which  descends 
toward  the  south  ;  and  thence  up  to  the 
level  of  the  Col  du  Lion  there  was  a 
long  natural  staircase,  on  which  it  was 
seldom  necessary  to  use  the  hands.  We 
dubbed  the  place  "  The  Great  Stair- 
case." Then  the  cliffs  of  the  Tete  du 
Lion,  which  rise  above  the  couloir,  had 
to  be  skirted.  This  part  varies  con- 
siderably in  different  seasons,  and  in 
1861  we  found  it  difficult,  for  the  fine 
steady  weather  of  that  year  had  reduced 
the  snow-beds  abutting  against  it  to  a 
lower  level  than  usual,  and  the  rocks 
which  were  left  exposed  at  the  junction 
of  the  snow  with  the  cliffs  had  few 
ledges  or  cracks  to  which  we  could 


SHAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


41 


hold.  But  by  half-past  ten  o'clock  we 
stood  on  the  col,  and  looked  down  upon 
the  magnificent  basin  out  of  which  the 
Z'Mutt  glacier  flows.  We  decided  to 
pass  the  night  upon  the  col,  for  we  were 
charmed  with  the  capabilities  of  the 
place,  although  it  was  one  where  liber- 
ties could  not  be  taken.  On  one  side  a 


shee»-  wall  overhung  the  Tiefenmatten 
glacier  —  on  the  other,  steep,  glassy 
slopes  of  hard  snow  descended  to  the 
Glacier  du  Lion,  furrowed  by  water  and 
by  falling  stones  :  on  the  north  there 
was  the  great  peak  of  the  Matterhorn,* 
and  on  the  south  the  cliffs  of  the  Tcte 
du  Lion.  Throw  a  bottle  down  to  the 


THE    COL   DU    LION,  LOOKING   TOWARD    THE   TETE    DU    LION. 


Tiefenmatten  —  no  sound  returns  for 
more  than  a  dozen  seconds. 

"  How  fearful 
And  dizzy  'tis  to  cast  one's  eyes  so  low  !" 

But  no  harm  could  come  from  that 
side — neither  could  it  from  the  other. 
Nor  was  it  likely  that  it  would  from  the 
Tete  du  Lion,  for  some  jutting  ledges 
conveniently  overhung  our  proposed 
resting-place.  We  waited  for  a  while, 


basked  in  the  sunshine,  and  watched 
or  listened  to  the  Carrels,  who  were 
sometimes  seen  or  heard  high  above  us 
upon  the  ridge  leading  toward  the  sum- 
mit ;  and,  leaving  at  mid-day,  we  de- 
scended to  the  cow-shed,  packed  up  the 
tent  and  other  properties,  and  returned 
to  the  col,  although  heavily  laden,  be- 

*  The  engraving  is  made  after  a  sketch  taken  froi.i 
the  rocks  of  the  Matterhorn,  just  above  the  col. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


fore  six  o'clock.  This  tent  was  con- 
structed on  a  pattern  suggested  by  Mr. 
Francis  Galton,  and  it  was  not  a  success. 
It  looked  very  pretty  when  set  up  in 
London,  but  it  proved  thoroughly  use- 
less in  the  Alps.  It  was  made  of  light 
canvas,  and  opened  like  a  book  :  one 
end  was  closed  permanently  and  the 
other  with  flaps  :  it  was  supported  by 
two  alpenstocks,  and  had  the  canvas 
sides  prolonged  so  as  to  turn  in  under- 
neath. Numerous  cords  were  sewn  to 
the  lower  edges,  to  which  stones  were 
to  be  attached,  but  the  main  fastenings 
were  by  a  cord  which  passed  under- 
neath the  ridge  and  through  iron  rings 
screwed  into  the  tops  of  the  alpenstocks, 
and  were  secured  by  pegs.  The  wind, 
which  playfully  careered  about  the  sur- 
rounding cliffs,  was  driven  through  our 
gap  with  the  force  of  a  blow-pipe  :  the 
flaps  of  the  tent  would  not  keep  down, 
the  pegs  would  not  stay  in,  and  it  ex- 
hibited so  marked  a  desire  to  go  to  the 
top  of  the  Dent  Blanche  that  we  thought 
it  prudent  to  take  it  down  and  to  sit 
upon  it.  When  night  came  on  we  wrap- 
ped ourselves  in  it,  and  made  our  camp 
as  comfortable  as  the  circumstances 
would  allow.  The  silence  was  impress- 
ive. No  living  thing  was  near  our  soli- 
tary bivouac ;  the  Carrels  had  turned 
back  and  were  out  of  hearing;  the 
stones  had  ceased  to  fall  and  the  trick- 
ling water  to  murmur — 

"  The  music  of  whose  liquid  lip 
Had  been  to  us  companionship, 
And  in  our  lonely  life  had  grown 
To  have  an  almost  human  tone."  * 

It  was  bitterly  cold.  Water  froze  hard 
in  a  bottle  under  my  head.  Not  sur- 
prising, as  we  were  actually  on  snow, 
and  in  a  position  where  the  slightest 
wind  was  at  once  felt.  For  a  time  we 
dozed,  but  about  midnight  there  came 
from  high  aloft  a  tremendous  explosion, 
followed  by  a  second  of  dead  quiet.  A 
great  mass  of  rock  had  split  off  and 
was  descending  toward  us.  My  guide 
started  up,  wrung  his  ha-nds  and  ex- 
claimed, "O  my  God,  we  are  lost !"  We 
heard  it  coming,  mass  after  mass  pour- 
ing over  the  precipices,  bounding  and 

*J.  G.  Whittier. 


rebounding  from  cliff  to  cliff,  and  the 
great  rocks  in  advance  smiting  one  an- 
other. They  seemed  to  be  close,  al- 
though they  were  probably  distant,  but 
some  small  fragments,  which  dropped 
upon  us  at  the  same  time  from  the  ledges" 
just  above,  added  to  the  alarm,  and  my 
demoralized  companion  passed  the  re- 
mainder of  the  night  in  a  state  of  shud- 
der, ejaculating  "Terrible!"  and  other 
adjectives. 

We  put  ourselves  in  motion  at  day- 
break, and  commenced  the  ascent  of  the 
south-west  ridge.  There  was  no  more 
sauntering  with  hands  in  the  pockets  • 
each  step  had  to  be  earned  by  down- 
right climbing.  But  it  was  the  most 
pleasant  kind  of  climbing.  The  rocks 
were  fast  and  unencumbered  with  debris, 
the  cracks  were  good,  although  not  nu- 
merous, anjd  there  was  nothing  to  fear 
except  from  one's  self.  So  we  thought, 
at  least,  and  shouted  to  awake  echoes 
from  the  cliffs.  Ah !  there  is  no  re- 
sponse. Not  yet :  wait  a  while — every- 
thing here  is  upon  a  superlative  scale  : 
count  a  dozen  and  then  the  echoes 
will  return  from  the  walls  of  the  Dent 
d'Herens,  miles  away,  in  waves  of  pure 
and  undefiled  sound,  soft,  musical  and 
sweet.  Halt  a  moment  to  regard  the 
view  !  We  overlook  the  Tete  du  Lion, 
and  nothing  except  the  Dent  d'Herens, 
whose  summit  is  still  a  thousand  feet 
above  us,  stands  in  the  way  :  the  ranges 
of  the  Graian  Alps,  an  ocean  of  moun- 
tains, are  seen  at  a  glance,  governed 
by  their  three  great  peaks,  the  Grivola, 
Grand  Paradis  and  Tour  de  St.  Pierre. 
How  soft,  and  yet  how  sharp,  they  look 
in  the  early  morning!  The  mid-day 
mists  have  not  begun  to  rise — nothing 
is  obscured  :  even  the  pointed  Viso,  all 
but  a  hundred  miles  away,  is  perfectly 
defined. 

Turn  to  the  east  and  watch  the  sun's 
slanting  rays  coming  across  the  Monte 
Rosa  snow-fields.  Look  at  the  shadow- 
ed parts  and  see  how  even  they,  radiant 
with  reflected  light,  are  more  brilliant 
than  man  knows  how  to  depict.  See 
how,  even  there,  the  gentle  undulations 
give  shadows  within  shadows,  and  how, 
yet  again,  where  falling  stones  or  ice 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  AL 


I7EESIT7JI 

•     Mi" 

43 


have  left  a  track,  there  are  shadows 
upon  shadows,  each  with  a  light  and  a 
dark  side,  with  infinite  gradations  of 
matchless  tenderness.  Then  note  the 
sunlight  as  it  steals  noiselessly  along 
and  reveals  countless  unsuspected  forms 
— the  delicate  ripple-lines  which  mark 
the  concealed  crevasse,  and  the  waves 
of  drifted  snow,  producing  each  minute 
more  lights  and  fresh  shadows,  spark- 
ling on  the  edges  and  glittering  on  the 
ends  of  the  icicles,  shining  on  the  heights 
and  illuminating  the  depths,  until  all  is 
aglow  and  the  dazzled  eye  returns  for 
relief  to  the  sombre  crags. 

Hardly  an  hour  had  passed  since  we 
left  the  col  before  we  arrived  at  the 
"  Chimney."  It  proved  to  be  the  coun- 
terpart of  the  place  to  which  refer- 
ence has  been  before  made  :  a  smooth, 
straight  slab  of  rock  was  fixed  at  a  con- 
siderable angle  between  two  others 
equally  smooth.  My  companion  essay- 
ed to  go  up,  and  after  crumpling  his 
long  body  into  many  ridiculous  posi- 
tions, he  said  that  he  would  not,  for  he 
could  not  do  it.  With  some  little  trouble 
I  got  up  it  unassisted,  and  then  my  guide 
tied  himself  on  to  the  end  of  our  rope, 
and  I  endeavored  to  pull  him  up.  But 
he  was  so  awkward  that  he  did  little  for 
himself,  and  so  heavy  that  he  proved  too 
much  for  me,  and  after  several  attempts 
he  untied  himself  and  quietly  observed 
that  he  should  go  down.  I  told  him  he 
was  a  coward,  and  he  mentioned  his 
opinion  of  me.  I  requested  him  to  go  to 
Breuil,  and  to  say  that  he  had  left  his 
"monsieur"  on  the  mountain,  and  he 
turned  to  go,  whereupon  I  had  to  eat 
humble  pie  and  ask  him  to  come  back  ; 
for  although  it  was  not  very  difficult  to 
go  up,  and  not  at  all  dangerous  with  a 
man  standing  below,  it  was  quite  an- 
other thing  to  come  down,  as  the  lower 
edge  overhung  in  a  provoking  manner. 

The   day   was  perfect,  the   sun  was 


pouring  down  grateful  warmth,  the'wind 
had  fallen,  the  way  seemed  clear,  no  in- 
superable obstacle  was  in  sight ;  but 
what  could  one  do  alone  ?  I  stood  on 
the  top,  chafing  under  this  unexpected 
contretemps,  and  remained  for  some 
time  irresolute  ;  but  as  it  became  ap- 
parent that  the  Chimney  was  swept 
more  frequently  than  was  necessary  (it 
was  a  natural  channel  for  falling  stones), 
I  turned  at  last,  descended  with  the 
assistance  of  my  companion,  and  re- 
turned with  him  to  Breuil,  where  we 
arrived  about  mid-day. 

The  Carrels  did  not  show  themselves, 
but  we  were  told  that  they  had  not  got 
to  any  great  height,*  and  that  the  "com- 
rade," who  for  convenience  had  taken 
off  his  shoes  and  tied  them  round  his 
waist,  had  managed  to  let  one  of  them 
slip,  and  had  come  down  with  a  piece 
of  cord  fastened  round  his  naked  foot. 
Notwithstanding  this,  they  had  boldly 
glissaded  down  the  Couloir  du  Lion, 
J.  J.  Carrel  having  his  shoeless  foot  tied 
up  in  a  pocket  handkerchief. 

The  Matterhorn  was  not  assailed  again 
in  1861.  I  left  Breuil  with  the  convic- 
tion that  it  was  little  use  for  a  single 
tourist  to  organize  an  attack  upon  it,  so 
great  was  its  influence  on  the  morals  of 
the  guides,  and  persuaded  that  it  was 
desirable  at  least  two  should  go,  to  back 
each  other  when  required  ;  and  depart- 
ed with  my  guide  over  the  Col  Theo- 
dule,  longing  more  than  before  to  make 
the  ascent,  and  determined  to  return — 
if  possible  with  a  companion  —  to  lay 
siege  to  the  mountain  until  one  or  the 
other  was  vanquished. 

*  I  learned  afterward  from  Jean-Antoine  Carrel  that 
they  got  considerably  higher  than  upon  their  previous 
attempts,  and  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  or  three 
hundred  feet  higher  than  Professor  Tyndall  in  1860. 
In  1862  I  saw  the  initials  of  J.-A.  Carrel  cut  on  the 
rocks  at  the  place  where  he  and  his  comrade  had 
turned  back. 


AT  BREUIL  (GIOMEIN).    See  page  55. 


CHAPTER   V. 

RENEWED   ATTEMPTS   TO   ASCEND  THE   MAT- 
TERHORN. 

THE  year  1862  was  still  young,  and 
the  Matterhorn,  clad  in  its  wintry 
garb,  bore  but  little  resemblance  to  the 
Matterhorn  of  the  summer,  when  a  new 
force  came  to  do  battle  with  the  moun- 
tain from  another  direction.  Mr.  T.  S. 
Kennedy  of  Leeds  conceived  the  extra- 
ordinary idea  that  the  peak  might  prove 
less  impracticable  in  January  than  in 
June,  and  arrived  at  Zermatt  in  the  for- 
mer month  to  put  his  conception  to  the 
test.  With  stout  Peter  Perm  and  sturdy 
Peter  Taugwalder  he  slept  in  the  little 
chapel  at  the  Schwarzensee,  and  on  the 
next  morning,  like  the  Messrs.  Parker, 


followed  the  ridge  between  the  peak 
called  Hornli  and  the  great  mountain. 
But  they  found  that  snow  in  winter 
obeyed  the  ordinary  laws,  and  that  the 
wind  and  frost  were  not  less  unkind 
than  in  summer.  "The  wind  whirled 
up  the  snow  and  spiculae  of  ice  into  our 
faces  like  needles,  and  flat  pieces  of  ice 
a  foot  in  diameter,  carried  up  from  the 
glacier  below,  went  flying  past.  Still 
no  one  seemed  to  like  to  be  the  first  to 
give  in,  till  a  gust  fiercer  than  usual 
forced  us  to  shelter  for  a  time  behind  a 
rock.  Immediately  it  was  tacitly  under- 
stood that  our  expedition  must  now  end. 
but  we  determined  to  leave  some  me- 
mento of  our  visit,  and,  after  descend- 
ing a  considerable  distance,  we  found  a 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


45 


suitable  place  with  loose  stones  of  which 
to  build  a  cairn.  In  half  an  hour  a 
tower  six  feet  high  was  erected,  a  bottle, 
with  the  date,  was  placed  inside,  and  we 
retreated  as  rapidly  as  possible."  This 
cairn  was  placed  at  the  spot  marked 
upon  Dufour's  Map  of  Switzerland 
10,820  feet  (3298  metres),  and  the  high- 
est point  attained  by  Mr.  Kennedy  was 
not,  I  imagine,  more  than  two  or  three 
hundred  feet  above  it. 

Shortly  after  this,  Professor  Tyndall 
gave,  in  his  little  tract  —  Mountaineer- 
ing in  1861 — an  account  of  the  reason 
why  he  had  left  Breuil  in  August,  1861, 
without  doing  anything.  It  seems  that 
he  sent  his  guide  Bennen  to  recon- 
noitre, and  that  the  latter  made  the  fol- 
lowing report  to  his  employer:  "Herr, 
I  have  examined  the  mountain  care- 
fully, and  find  it  more  difficult  and  dan- 
gerous than  I  had  imagined.  There  is 
no  place  upon  it  where  we  could  well 
pass  the  night.  We  might  do  so  on 
yonder  col  upon  the  snow,  but  there  we 
should  be  almost  frozen  to  death,  and 
totally  unfit  for  the  work  of  the  next 
day.  On  the  rocks  there  is  no  ledge  or 
cranny  which  could  give  us  proper  har- 
borage ;  and  starting  from  Breuil,  it  is 
certainly  impossible  to  reach  the  sum- 
mit in  a  single  day."  "  I  was  entirely 
taken  aback,"  says  Tyndall,  "by  this 
report.  I  felt  like  a  man  whose  grip 
had  given  way,  and  who  was  dropping 
through  the  air.  .  .  .  Bennen  was  evi- 
dently dead  against  any  attempt  upon 
the  mountain.  'We  can,  at  all  events, 
reach  the  lower  of  the  two  summits,'  I 
remarked.  '  Even  that  is  difficult,'  he 
replied  ;  '  but  when  you  have  reached 
it,  what  then  ?  The  peak  has  neither 
name  nor  fame.'  "* 

I  was  more  surprised  than  discouraged 
by  this  report  by  Bennen.  One-half  of 

*  Mountaineering  in  1861,  pp.  86,  87.  Tyndall  and 
Bennen  were  mistaken  in  supposing  that  the  moun- 
tain has  two  summits  ;  it  has  only  one.  They  seem 
to  have  been  deceived  by  the  appearance  of  that  part 
of  the  south-west  ridge  which  is  called  "  the  shoul- 
der "  (1'epaule),  as  seen  from  Breuil.  Viewed  from 
that  place,  its  southern  end  has  certainly,  through 
foreshortening,  the  semblance  of  a  peak ;  but  when 
one  regards  it  from  the  Col  Theodule,  or  from  any 
place  in  the  same  direction,  the  delusion  is  at  once 
apparent. 


his  assertions  I  knew  to  be  wrong.  The 
col  to  which  he  referred  was  the  Col  du 
Lion,  upon  which  he  had  passed  a  night 
less  than  a  week  after  he  had  spoken 
so  authoritatively ;  and  I  had  seen  a 
place  not  far  below  the  "  Chimney  " — a 
place  about  five  hundred  feet  above  the 
col — where  it  seemed  possible  to  con- 
struct a  sleeping-place.  Bennen's  opin- 
ions seem  to  have  undergone  a  complete 
change.  In  1860  he  is  described  as 
having  been  enthusiastic  to  make  an 
attempt — in  1861  he  was  dead  against 
one.  Nothing  dismayed  by  this,  my 
friend  Mr.  Reginald  Macdonald,  our 
companion  on  the  Pelvoux — to  whom 
so  much  of  our  success  had  been  due 
— agreed  to  join  me  in  a  renewed  as- 
sault from  the  south  ;  and  although  we 
failed  to  secure  Melchior  Anderegg  and 
some  other  notable  guides,  we  obtained 
two  men  of  repute  —  namely,  Johann 
zum  Taugwald  and  Johann  Kronig  of 
Zermatt.  We  met  at  that  place  early  in 
July,  but  stormy  weather  prevented  us 
even  from  crossing  to  the  other  side  of 
the  chain  for  some  time.  We  crossed 
the  Col  Theodule  on  the  5th,  but  the 
weather  was  thoroughly  unsettled :  it 
was  raining  in  the  valleys  and  snowing 
upon  the  mountains.  Shortly  before 
we  gained  the  summit  we  were  made 
extremely  uncomfortable  by  hearing 
mysterious  rushing  sounds,  which  some- 
times seemed  as  if  a  sudden  gust  of 
wind  was  sweeping  along  the  snow, 
and  at  others  almost  like  the  swishing 
of  a  long  whip  ;  yet  the  snow  exhibited 
no  signs  of  motion  and  the  air  was  per- 
fectly calm.  The  dense,  black  storm- 
clouds  made  us  momentarily  expect 
that  our  bodies  might  be  used  as  light- 
ning-conductors, and  we  were  well  sat- 
isfied to  get  under  shelter  of  the  inn  at 
Breuil  without  having  submitted  to  any 
such  experience. 

We  had  need  of  a  porter,  and  by  the 
advice  of  our  landlord  descended  to 
the  chalets  of  Breuil  in  search  of  one 
Luc  Meynet.  We  found  his  house,  a 
mean  abode,  encumbered  with  cheese- 
making  apparatus,  and  tenanted  only 
by  some  bright-eyed  children  ;  but  as 
they  said  that  Uncle  Luc  would  soon  be 


46 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


home,  we  waited  at  the   door  of  the 
little  chalet  and  watched  for  him.     At 


last  a  speck  was  seen  coming  round  the 
corner   of    the   patch   of    pines   below 

SUMMIT   (14780). 


SOUTH-WEST    RIDGE. 


NORTH-EAST    KIDGE. 


/ 


1.  Author's  Second  Tent  Platform.  4.  Tyndall,  August  20,  i 

2.  Wliymper,  August  30,  1861.  5.  Whymper,  July  19,  1862. 

3.  Macdonald  and  Whyinper,  July  8,  1862.  6.  Whymper,  July  26,  1862. 

7.  Tyndall,  July  28,  1862. 

THE    MATTERHORN    FROM    THE   SUMMIT    OF    THE   THEODULE    PASS    (10899    FEET). 


Breuil,  and  then  the  children  clapped 
their  hands,  dropped  their  toys  and  ran 
eagerly  forward  to  meet  him.  We  saw 
an  ungainly,  wobbling  figure  stoop  down 
and  catch  up  the  little  ones,  kiss  them 
on  each  cheek,  and  put  them  into  the 
empty  panniers  on  each  side  of  the 
mule,  and  then  heard  it  come  on  carol- 
ing, as  if  this  was  not  a  world  of  woe  ; 
and  yet  the  face  of  little  Luc  Meynet, 
the  hunchback  of  Breuil,  bore  traces  of 
trouble  and  sorrow,  and  there  was  more 
than  a  touch  of  sadness  in  his  voice 
when  he  said  that  he  must  look  after 
his  brother's  children.  All  his  difficult- 
ies were,  however,  at  length  overcome, 
and  he  agreed  to  join  us  to  carry  the 
tent. 

In  the  past  winter  I  had  turned  my 
attention  to  tents,  and  that  which  we 
had  brought  with  us  was  the  result  of 
experiments  to  devise  one  which  should 
be  sufficiently  portable  to  be  taken  over 


the  most  difficult  ground,  and  which 
should  combine  lightness  with  stability. 
Its  base  was  just  under  six  feet  square, 
and  a  section  perpendicular  to  its  length 
was  an  equilateral  triangle,  the  sides  of 
which  were  six  feet  long.  It  was  in- 
tended to  accommodate  four  persons. 
It  was  supported  by  four  ash  poles  six 
feet  and  a  half  long  and  one  inch  and 
a  quarter  thick,  tapering  to  the  top  to 
an  inch  and  an  eighth  :  these  were  shod 
with  iron  points.  The  order  of  proceed- 
ing in  the  construction  of  the  tent  was 
as  follows :  Holes  were  drilled  through 
the  poles  about  five  inches  from  their 
tops  for  the  insertion  of  two  wrought- 
iron  bolts,  three  inches  long  and  one- 
quarter  of  an  inch  thick.  The  bolts 
were  then  inserted,  and  the  two  pairs 
of  poles  were  set  out  (and  fixed  up  by  a 
cord)  to  the  proper  dimensions.  The 
roof  was  then  put  on.  This  was  made 
of  the  rough,  unbleached  calico  called 
forfar,  which  can  be  obtained  in  six-feet 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


47 


widths,  and  it  was  continued  round  for 
about  two  feet 
on  each  side, 
on  to  the  floor. 
The  width  of 
the  material 
was  the  length 
of  the  tent,  and 
seams  were  thus 
avoided  in  the 
roof.  The  for- 

far  was  sewn  round  each  pole,  particu- 
lar care  being  taken  to  avoid  wrinkles 


and  to  get  the  whole  perfectly  taut. 
The  flooring  was  next  put  in  and  sewn 
down  to  the  forfar.  This  was  of  the  ordi- 
nary plaid  mackintosh,  about  nine  feet 
square,  the  surplus  three  feet  being  con- 
tinued up  the  sides  to  prevent  draughts. 
It  is  as  well  to  have  two  feet  of  this  sur- 
plus on  one  side,  and  only  one  foot  on 
the  other,  the  latter  amount  being  suf- 
ficient for  the  side  occupied  by  the  feet. 
One  end  was  then  permanently  closed 
by  a  triangular  piece  of  forfar,  which  was 
sewn  down  to  that  which  was  already 


ALPINE  TENT. 


fixed.  The  other  end  was  left  open, 
and  had  two  triangular  flaps  that  over- 
lapped each  other,  and  which  were  fas- 
tened up  when  we  were  inside  by  pieces 
of  tape.  Lastly,  the  forfar  was  nailed 
down  to  the  poles  to  prevent  the  tent 
getting  out  of  shape.  The  cord  which 
was  used  for  climbing  served  for  the 
tent :  it  was  passed  over  the  crossed 
poles  and  underneath  the  ridge  of  the 
roof,  and  the  two  ends — one  fore  and 
the  other  aft  —  were  easily  secured  to 


pieces  of  rock.  Such  a  tent  costs  about 
four  guineas,  and  its  weight  is  about 
twenty-three  pounds;  or,  if  the  lightest 
kind  of  forfar  is  used,  it  need  not  ex- 
ceed twenty  pounds. 

Sunday,  the  6th  of  July,  was  showery, 
and  snow  fell  on  the  Matterhorn,  but 
we  started  on  the  following  morning 
with  our  three  men,  and  pursued  my 
route  of  the  previous  year.  I  was  re- 
quested to  direct  the  way,  as  none  save 
myself  had  been  on  the  mountain  be- 


4s 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


fore,  but  I  did  not  distinguish  myself  on 
this  occasion,  and  led  my  companions 
nearly  to  the  top  of  the  small  peak  be- 
fore the  mistake  was  discovered.  The 
party  becoming  rebellious,  a  little  ex- 
ploration was  made  toward  our  right, 
and  we  found  that  we  were  upon  the 
top  of  the  cliff  overlooking  the  Col  du 
Lion.  The  upper  part  of  the  small  peak 
is  of  a  very  different  character  to  the 
lower  part :  the  rocks  are  not  so  firm, 
and  they  are  usually  covered  or  inter- 
mixed with  snow  and  glazed  with  ice  : 
the  angle  too  is  more  severe.  While 
descending  a  small  snow-slope  to  get 
on  to  the  right  track,  Kronig  slipped  on 
a  streak  of  ice  and  went  down  at  a  fearful 
pace.  Fortunately,  he  kept  on  his  legs, 
and  by  a  great  effort  succeeded  in  stop- 
ping just  before  he  arrived  at  some 
rocks  that  jutted  through  the  snow, 
which  would  infallibly  have  knocked 
him  over.  When  we  rejoined  him  a 
few  minutes  later  we  found  that  he  was 
incapable  of  standing,  much  less  of 
moving,  with  a  face  corpse-like  in  hue, 
and  trembling  violently.  He  remained 
in  this  condition  for  more  than  an  hour, 
and  the  day  was  consequently  far  ad- 
vanced before  we  arrived  at  our  camp- 
ing-place on  the  col.  Profiting  by  the 
experience  of  last  year,  we  did  not  pitch 
the  tent  actually  on  the  snow,  but  col- 
lected a  quantity  of  debris  from  the 
neighboring  ledges,  and  after  construct- 
ing a  rough  platform  of  the  larger  pieces, 
leveled  the  whole  with  the  dirt  and 
mud. 

Meynet  had  proved  invaluable  as  a 
tent-bearer,  for,  although  his  legs  were 
more  picturesque  than  symmetrical,  and 
although  he  seemed  to  be  built,  on  prin- 
ciple, with  no  two  parts  alike,  his  very 
deformities  proved  of  service  ;  and  we 
quickly  found  he  had  a  spirit  of  no 
common  order,  and  that  few  peasants 
are  more  agreeable  companions  or  bet- 
ter climbers  than  little  Luc  Meynet,  the 
hunchback  of  Breuil.  He  now  showed 
himself  not  less  serviceable  as  a  scav- 
enger, and  humbly  asked  for  gristly 
pieces  of  meat  rejected  by  the  others,  or 
for  suspicious  eggs,  and  seemed  to  con- 
sider it  a  peculiar  favor,  if  not  a  treat, 


to  be  permitted  to  drink  the  coffee- 
grounds.  With  the  greatest  content- 
ment he  took  the  worst  place  at  the 
door  of  the  tent,  and  did  all  the  dirty 
work  which  was  put  upon  him  by  the 
guides,  as  gratefully  as  a  dog  who  has 
been  well  beaten  will  receive  a  stroke. 

A  strong  wind  sprang  up  from  the 
east  during  the  night,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing it  was  blowing  almost  a  hurricane. 
The  tent  behaved  nobly,  and  we  re- 
mained under  its  shelter  for  several 
hours  after  the  sun  had  risen,  uncertain 
what  it  was  best  to  do.  A  lull  tempted 
us  to  move,  but  we  had  scarcely  ascend- 
ed a  hundred  feet  before  the  storm  burst 
upon  us  with  increased  fury.  Advance 
or  return  was  alike  impossible :  the 
ridge  was  denuded  of  its  debris,  and 
we  clutched  our  hardest  when  we  saw 
stones  as  big  as  a  man's  fist  blown 
away  horizontally  into  space.  We 
dared  not  attempt  to  stand  upright,  and 
remained  stationary  on  all  fours,  glued, 
as  it  were,  to  the  rocks.  It  was  intense- 
ly cold,  for  the  blast  had  swept  along 
the  main  chain  of  the  Pennine  Alps 
and  across  the  great  snow-fields  around 
Monte  Rosa.  Our  warmth  and  courage 
rapidly  evaporated,  and  at  the  next  lull 
we  retreated  to  the  tent,  having  to  halt 
several  times  in  that  short  distance. 
Taugwald  and  Kronig  then  declared 
that  they  had  had  enough,  and  refused 
to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  the 
mountain.  Meynet  also  informed  us 
that  he  would  be  required  down  below 
for  important  cheese-making  operations 
on  the  following  day.  It  was  therefore 
needful  to  return  to  Breuil,  and  we  ar- 
rived there  at  2.30  p.  M.,  extremely 
chagrined  at  our  complete  defeat. 

Jean  -  Antoine  Carrel,  attracted  by 
rumors,  had  come  up  to  the  inn  during 
our  absence,  and  after  some  negotia- 
tions agreed  to  accompany  us,  with  one 
of  his  friends  named  Pession,  on  the 
first  fine  day.  We  thought  ourselves 
fortunate,  for  Carrel  clearly  considered 
the  mountain  a  kind  of  preserve,  and 
regarded  our  late  attempt  as  an  act  of 
poaching.  The  wind  blew  itself  out 
during  the  night,  and  we  started  again, 
with  these  two  men  and  a  porter,  at  8 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


49 


A.  M.  on  the  9th,  with  unexceptionable 
weather.  Carrel  pleased  us  by  suggest- 
ing that  we  should  camp  even  higher 
than  before ;  and  we  accordingly  pro- 
ceeded, without  resting  at  the  col,  until 
we  overtopped  the  Tete  du  Lion.  Near 
the  foot  of  the  "Chimney,"  a  little  be- 
low the  crest  of  the  ridge  and  on  its 
eastern  side,  we  found  a  protected  place ; 
and  by  building  up  from  ledge  to  ledge 
(under  the  direction  of  our  leader,  who 
was  a  mason  by  profession)  we  at 
length  constructed  a  platform  •  of  suf- 
ficient size  and  of  considerable  solidity. 
Its  height  was  about  twelve  thousand 
five  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the 
sea ;  and  it  exists,  I  believe,  at  the  pres- 
ent time.  We  then  pushed  on,  as  the 
day  was  very  fine,  and  after  a  short 
hour's  scramble  got  to  the  foot  of  the 
Great  Tower  upon  the  ridge  (that  is  to 
say,  to  Mr.  Hawkins'  farthest  point), 
and  afterward  returned  to  our  bivouac. 
We  turned  out  again  at  4  A.  M.,  and  at 
5.15  started  upward  once  more,  with 
fine  weather  and  the  thermometer  at 
28°.  Carrel  scrambled  up  the  Chimney, 
and  Macdonald  and  I  after  him.  Pes- 
sion's  turn  came,  but  when  he  arrived 
at  the  top  he  looked  very  ill,  declared 
himself  to  be  thoroughly  incapable,  and 
said  that  he  must  go  back.  We  waited 
some  time,  but  he  did  not  get  better, 
neither  could  we  learn  the  nature  of  his 
illness.  Carrel  flatly  refused  to  go  on 
with  us  alone.  We  were  helpless. 
Macdonald,  ever  the  coolest  of  the  cool, 
suggested  that  we  should  try  what  we 
could  do  without  them,  but  our  better 
judgment  prevailed,  and  finally  we  re- 
turned together  to  Breuil.  On  the  next 
day  my  friend  started  for  London. 

Three  times  I  had  essayed  the  ascent 
of  this  mountain,  and  on  each  occasion 
had  failed  ignominiously.  I  had  not 
advanced  a  yard  beyond  my  predeces- 
sors. Up  to  the  height  of  nearly  thir- 
teen thousand  feet  there  were  no  ex- 
traordinary difficulties  :  the  way  so  far 
might  even  become  "a  matter  of  amuse- 
ment." Only  eighteen  hundred  feet 
remained,  but  they  were  as  yet  untrod-  I 
den,  and  might  present  the  most  for- 
midable obstacles.  No  man  could  ex-  ; 

4 


pect  to  climb  them  by  himself.  A  mor- 
sel of  rock  only  seven  feet  high  might 
at  any  time  defeat  him  if  it  were  per- 
pendicular. Such  a  place  might  be 
possible  to  two,  or  a  bagatelle  to  three 
men.  It  was  evident  that  a  party 
should  consist  of  three  men  at  least. 
But  where  could  the  other  two  men  be 
obtained?  Carrel  was  the  only  man 
who  exhibited  any  enthusiasm  in  the 
matter,  and  he  in  1861  had  absolutely 
refused  to  go  unless  the  party  consisted 
of  at  least  four  persons.  Want  of  men 
made  the  difficulty,  not  the  mountain. 

The  weather  became  bad  again,  so  I 
went  to  Zermatt  on  the  chance  of  pick- 
ing up  a  man,  and  remained  there  during 
a  week  of  storms.  Not  one  of  the  good 
men,  however,  could  be  induced  to 
come,  and  I  returned  to  Breuil  on  the 
1 7th,  hoping  to  combine  the  skill  of 
Carrel  with  the  willingness  of  Meynet 
on  a  new  attempt  by  the  same  route  as 
before  ;  for  the  Hornli  ridge,  which  I 
had  examined  in  the  mean  time,  seem- 
ed to  be  entirely  impracticable.  Both 
men  were  inclined  to  go,  but  their  ordi- 
nary occupations  prevented  them  from 
starting  at  once. 

My  tent  had  been  left  rolled  up  at 
the  second  platform,  and  whilst  waiting 
for  the  men  it  occurred  to  me  that  it 
might  have  been  blown  away  during 
the  late  stormy  weather ;  so  I  started 
off  on  the  i8th  to  see  if  this  were  so  or 
not.  The  way  was  by  this  time  familiar, 
and  I  mounted  rapidly,  astonishing  the 
friendly  herdsmen — who  nodded  recog- 
nition as  I  flitted  past  them  and  the 
cows — for  I  was  alone,  because  no  man 
was  available.  But  more  deliberation 
was  necessary  when  the  pastures  were 
passed  and  climbing  began,  for  it  was 
needful  to  mark  each  step  in  case  of 
mist  or  surprise  by  night.  It  is  one  of 
the  few  things  which  can  be  said  in 
favor  of  mountaineering  alone  (a  prac- 
tice which  has  little  besides  to  commend 
it)  that  it  awakens  a  man's  faculties  and 
makes  him  observe.  When  one  has 
no  arms  to  help  and  no  head  to  guide 
him  except  his  own,  he  must  needs  take 
note  even  of  small  things,  for  he  can- 
not afford  to  throw  away  a  chance  ;  and 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS    IN  1860-' 69. 


so  it  came  to  pass  upon  my  solitary 
scramble,  when  above  the  snow-line  and 
beyond  the  ordinary  limits  of  flowering 
plants,  when  peering  about  noting  an- 
gles and  landmarks,  that  my  eyes  fell 
upon  the  tiny  straggling  plants — often- 
times a  single  flower  on  a  single  stalk — 
pioneers  of  vegetation,  atoms  of  life  in 
a  world  of  desolation,  which  had  found 
their  way  up — who  can  tell  how  ? — from 
far  below,  and  were  obtaining  bare  sus- 
tenance from  the  scanty  soil  in  protect- 
ed nooks  ;  and  it  gave  a  new  interest  to 
the  well-known  rocks  to  see  what  a  gal- 
lant fight  the  survivors  made  (for  many 
must  have  perished  in  the  attempt)  to 
ascend  the  great  mountain.  The  gen- 
tian, as  one  might  have  expected,  was 
there,  but  it  was  run  close  by  saxifrages 
and  by  Linaria  alpina,  and  was  beaten 
by  Thlaspi  rotundifolium  ;  which  latter 
plant  was  the  highest  I  was  able  to  se- 
cure, although  it  too  was  overtopped  by 
a  little  white  flower  which  I  knew  not 
and  was  unable  to  reach. 

The  tent  was  safe,  although  snowed 
up,  and  I  turned  to  contemplate  the 
view,  which,  when  seen  alone  and  un- 
disturbed, had  all  the  strength  and 
charm  of  complete  novelty.  The  high- 
est peaks  of  the  Pennine  chain  were  in 
front  — the  Breithorn  (13,685  feet),  the 
Lyskamm  (14,889),  and  Monte  Rosa 
(15,217);  then  turning  to  the  right,  the 
entire  block  of  mountains  which  sepa- 
rated the  Val  Tournanche  from  the  Val 
d'Ayas  was  seen  at  a  glance,  with  its 
dominating  summit,  the  Grand  Tourria- 
lin  (11,155).  Behind  were  the  ranges 
dividing  the  Val  d'Ayas  from  the  valley 
of  Gressoney ,  backed  by  higher  summits. 
More  still  to  the  right  the  eye  wandered 
down  the  entire  length  of  the  Val  Tour- 
nanche, and  then  rested  upon  the  Gra- 
ian  Alps  with  their  innumerable  peaks, 
and  upon  the  isolated  pyramid  of  Monte 
Viso  (12,643)  m  the  extreme  distance. 
Next,  still  turning  to  the  right,  came  the 
mountains  intervening  between  the  Val 
Tournanche  and  the  Val  Barthelemy  : 
Mont  Rouss  (a  round- topped,  snowy 
summit,  which  seems  so  important  from 
Breuil,  but  which  is  in  reality  only  a 
buttress  of  the  higher  mountain,  the 


Chateau  des  Dames)  had  long  ago  sunk, 
and  the  eye  passed  over  it,  scarcely 
heeding  its  existence,  to  the  Becca  Salle 
(or,  as  it  is  printed  on  the  map,  Bee  de 
Sale),  a  miniature  Matterhorn,  and  to 
other  and  more  important  heights. 
Then  the  grand  mass  of  the  Dent 
d'Herens  (13,714)  stopped  the  way- -a 
noble  mountain,  encrusted  on  its  north- 
ern slopes  with  enormous  hanging  gla- 
ciers, which  broke  away  at  mid-day  in 
immense  slices,  and  thundered  down 
on  to  the  Tiefenmatten  glacier ;  and 
lastly,  most  splendid  of  all,  came  the 
Dent  Blanche  (14,318),  soaring  above 
the  basin  of  the  great  Z'Muttgletscher. 
Such  a  view  is  hardly  to  be  matched  in 
the  Alps,  and  this  view  is  very  rarely 
seen,  as  I  saw  it,  perfectly  unclouded. 

Time  sped  away  unregarded,  and  the 
little  birds  which  had  built  their  nests 
on  the  neighboring  cliffs  had  begun  to 
chirp  their  evening  hymn  before  I 
thought  of  returning.  Half  mechanic- 
ally, I  turned  to  the  tent,  unrolled  it 
and  set  it  up  :  it  contained  food  enough 
for  several  days,  and  I  resolved  to  stay 
over  the  night.  I  had  started  from 
Breuil  without  provisions  or  telling 
Favre,  the  innkeeper,  who  was  accus- 
tomed to  my  erratic  ways,  where  I  was 
going.  I  returned  to  the  view.  The 
sun  was  setting,  and  its  rosy  rays,  blend- 
ing with  the  snowy  blue,  had  thrown  a 
pale,  pure  violet  far  as  the  eye  could 
see ;  the  valleys  were  drowned  in  a 
purple  gloom,  while  the  summits  shone 
with  unnatural  brightness  ;  and  as  I  sat 
in  the  door  of  the  tent  and  watched  the 
twilight  change  to  darkness,  the  earth 
seemed  to  become  less  earthly  and  al- 
most sublime  :  the  world  seemed  dead, 
and  I  its  sole  inhabitant.  By  and  by 
the  moon,  as  it  rose,  brought  the  hills 
again  into  sight,  and  by  a  judicious  re- 
pression of  detail  rendered  the  view 
yet  more  magnificent.  Something  in 
the  south  hung  like  a  great  glow-worm 
in  the  air :  it  was  too  large  for  a  star, 
and  too  steady  for  a  meteor,  and  it  was 
long  before  I  could  realize  the  incredible 
fact  that  it  was  the  moonlight  glittering 
on  the  great  snow-slope  on  the  north  side 
of  Monte  Viso,  at  a  distance,  as  the  crow 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


flies,  of  ninety-eight  miles.  Shivering, 
at  last  I  entered  the  tent  and  made  my 
coffee.  The  night  was  passed  comfort- 
ably, and  the  next  morning,  tempted 
by  the  brilliancy  of  the  weather,  I  pro- 
ceeded yet  higher  in  search  of  another 
place  for  a  platform. 

Solitary  scrambling  over  a  pretty  wide 
area  had  shown  me  that  a  single  indi- 
vidual is 
subjected 
to  very 
many  dif- 
ficulties 
which  do 
not  trou- 
ble a  par- 
ty of  two  or  three 
men,  and  that  the 
disadvantages  of  being 
alone  are  more  felt  while 
descending  than  during 
the  ascent.  In  order  to  neu- 
tralize these  inconveniences,  I 
had  devised  two  little  appli- 
ances, which  were  now  brought 
into  use  for  the  first  time.  One  was 
a  claw,  a  kind  of  grapnel,  about  five 
inches  long,  made  of  shear  steel  one- 
fifth  of  an  inch  thick.  This  was  of  use 
in  difficult  places  where  there  was  no 
hold  within  arm's  length,  but  where 
there  were  cracks  or  ledges  some  dis- 
tance higher.  It  could  be  stuck  on  the 
end  of  the  alpenstock  and  dropped 
into  such  places,  or,  on  extreme  occa- 
sions, flung  up  until  it  attached  itself  to 
something.  The  edges  that  laid  hold 
of  the  rocks  were  serrated,  which  tend- 
ed to  make  them  catch  more  readily  : 
the  other  end  had  a  ring  to  which  a 
rope  was  fastened.  It  must  not  be  un- 
derstood that  this  was  employed  for 
hauling  one's  self  up  by  for  any  great 
distance,  but  that  it  was  used  in  ascend- 
ing, at  the  most,  for  only  a  few  yards  at 
a  time.  In  descending,  however,  it 
could  be  prudently  used  for  a  greater 
distance  at  a  time,  as  the  claws  could 
be  planted  firmly  ;  but  it  was  necessary 
to  keep  the  rope  taut  and  the  pull  con- 
stantly in  the  direction  of  the  length  of 
the  implement,  otherwise  it  had  a  tend- 
ency to  slip  away.  The  second  device 


was  merely  a  modification  of  a  dodge 
practiced  by  all  climbers.  It  is  fre- 
quently necessary  for  a  single  man  (or 
for  the  last  man  of  a  party)  during  a 
descent  to  make  a  loop  in  the  end  of  his 
rope,  which  he  passes  over  some  rocks, 
and  to  come  do-wn  holding  the  free  end. 
The  loop  is  then  jerked  ofT,  and  the  pro- 
cess may  be  repeated.  But  as  it  some- 
times happens 
that  there  are  no 
rocks  at  hand 
which  will  allow 
a  loose  loop  to 
be  used,  a  slip- 
knot has  to  be 
resorted  to,  and 
the  rope  is  drawn 
in  tightly.  Con- 
sequently, it  will 
occur  that  it  is 
not  possible  to 
jerk  the  loop  off, 
and  the  rope  has 
to  be  cut  and  left 
behind.  To  pre- 
vent this,  I  had 
a  wrought  -  iron 
ring  (two  and  a 
quarter  inches  in  diameter  and  three- 
eighths  of  an  inch  thick)  attached  to  one 
end  of  my  rope,  and  a  loop  could  be 
made  in  a  moment  by  passing  the  other 
end  of  the  rope  through  the  ring,  which 
of  course  slipped  up  and  held  tightly  as 
I  descended  holding  the  free  end.  A 
strong  piece  of  cord  was  also  attached 
to  the  ring,  and  on  arriving  at  the  bot- 
tom this  was  pulled  :  the  ring  slid  back 
again,  and  the  loop  was  whipped  off 
readily.  By  means  of  these  two  simple 
appliances  I  was  able  to  ascend  and 
descend  rocks  which  otherwise  would 
have  been  completely  impassable.  The 
combined  weight  of  these  two  things 
amounted  to  less  than  half  a  pound. 

The  rocks  of  the  south-west  ridge  are 
by  no  means  difficult  for  some  distance 
above  the  Col  du  Lion.  This  is  true  of 
the  rocks  up  to  the  level  of  the  Chim- 
ney, but  they  steepen  when  that  is  pass- 
ed, and  remaining  smooth  and  with  but 
few  fractures,  and  still  continuing  to 
dip  outward,  present  some  steps  of  a 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


very  uncertain  kind,  particularly  when 
they  are  glazed  with  ice.  At  this  point 
(just  above  the  Chimney)  the  climber  is 
obliged  to  follow  the  southern  (or  Breuil) 
side  of  the  ridge,  but  in  a  few  feet  more 
one  must  turn  over  to  the  northern 
(or  Z'Mutt)  side,  where  in  most  years 
Nature  kindly  provides  a  snow-slope. 
When  this  is  surmounted,  one  can  again 
return  to  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  and  fol- 
low it  by  easy  rocks  to  the  foot  of  the 
Great  Tower.  This  was  the  highest 
point  attained  by  Mr.  Hawkins  in  1860, 
and  it  was  also  our  highest  on  the  9th 
of  July. 

This  Great  Tower  is  one  of  the  most 
striking  features  of  the  ridge.  It  stands 
out  like  a  turret  at  the  angle  of  a  castle. 
Behind  it  a  battlemented  wall  leads  up- 
ward to  the  citadel.  Seen  from  the 
Theodule  pass,  it  looks  only  an  insig- 
nificant pinnacle,  but  as  one  approaches 
it  (on  the  ridge),  so  it  seems  to  rise,  and 
when  one  is  at  its  base  it  completely 
conceals  the  upper  parts  of  the  moun- 
tain. I  found  here  a  suitable  place  for 
the  tent,  which,  although  not  so  well 
protected  as  the  second  platform,  pos- 
sessed the  advantage  of  being  three 
hundred  feet  higher  up ;  and  fascinated 
by  the  wildness  of  the  cliffs,  and  enticed 
by  the  perfection  of  the  weather,  I  went 
on  to  see  what  was  behind. 

The  first  step  was  a  difficult  one  :  the 
ridge  became  diminished  to  the  least 
possible  width,  it  was  hard  to  keep  one's 
balance,  and  just  where  it  was  narrow- 
est a  more  than  perpendicular  mass 
barred  the  way.  Nothing  fairly  within 
arm's  reach  could  be  laid  hold  of:  it 
was  necessary  to  spring  up,  and  then 
to  haul  one's  self  over  the  sharp  edge 
by  sheer  strength.  Progression  directly 
upward  was  then  impossible.  Enor- 
mous and  appalling  precipices  plunged 
down  to  the  Tiefenmatten  glacier  on  the 
left,  but  round  the  right-hand  side  it  was 
just  possible  to  go.  One  hindrance  then 
succeeded  another,  and  much  time  was 
consumed  in  seeking  the  way.  I  have 
a  vivid  recollection  of  a  gully  of  more 
than  usual  perplexity  at  the  side  of  the 
Great  Tower,  with  minute  ledges  and 
steep  walls ;  of  the  ledges  dwindling 


down,  and  at  last  ceasing ;  of  finding 
myself,  with  arms  and  legs  divergent, 
fixed  as  if  crucified,  pressing  against 
the  rock,  and  feeling  each  rise  and  fall 
of  my  chest  as  I  breathed ;  of  screwing 
my  head  round  to  look  for  a  hold,  and 
not  seeing  any,  and  of  jumping  side- 
ways on  to  the  other  side. 

Places  such  as  this  gully  have  their 
charm  so  long  as  a  man  feels  that  the 
difficulties  are  within  his  power,  but 
their  enchantment  vanishes  directly 
they  are  too  much  for  him,  and  when 
he  feels  this  they  are  dangerous  to  him. 
The  line  which  separates  the  difficult 
from  the  dangerous  is  sometimes  a  very 
shadowy,  but  it  is  not  an  imaginary  one. 
It  is  a  true  line,  without  breadth.  It  is 
often  easy  to  pass  and  very  hard  to  see. 
It  is  sometimes  passed  unconsciously, 
and  the  consciousness  that  it  has  been 
passed  is  felt  too  late  ;  but  so  long  as  a 
man  undertakes  that  which  is  well  with- 
in his  power,  he  is  not  likely  to  pass 
this  line,  or  consequently  to  get  into  any 
great  danger,  although  he  may  meet  with 
considerable  difficulty.  That  which  is 
within  a  man's  power  varies,  of  course, 
according  to  time,  place  and  circum- 
stance, but  as  a  rule  he  can  tell  pretty 
well  when  he  is  arriving  at  the  end  of 
his  tether  ;  and  it  seems  to  me,  although 
it  is  difficult  to  determine  for  another, 
even  approximately,  the  limits  to  which 
it  is  prudent  for  him  to  go,  that  it  is 
tolerably  easy  to  do  so  for  one's  self. 
But  (according  to  my  opinion)  if  the 
doubtful  line  is  crossed  consciously, 
deliberately,  one  passes  from  doing  that 
which  is  justifiable  to  doing  that  which 
is  unjustifiable,  because  it  is  imprudent. 

I  expect  that  any  intelligent  critic  will 
inquire,  "But  do  you  really  mean  to 
assert  that  dangers  in  mountaineering 
arise  only  from  superlative  difficulty, 
and  that  the  perfect  mountaineer  does 
not  run  any  risks  ?"  I  am  not  prepared 
to  go  quite  so  far  as  this,  although  there 
is  only  one  risk  to  which  the  scrambler 
on  the  Higher  Alps  is  unavoidably  sub- 
ject which  does  not  occur  to  pedestrians 
in  London's  streets.  This  arises  from 
falling  rocks,  and  I  shall  endeavor  in 
the  course  of  this  work  to  make  the 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


53 


reader  understand  that  it  is  a  positive 
danger,  and  one  against  which  skill, 
strength  and  courage  are  equally  un- 
availing. It  occurs  at  unexpected  times, 
and  may  occur  in  almost  any  place. 
The  critic  may  retort,  "Your  admission 
of  this  one  danger  destroys  all  the  rest 
of  the  argument."  I  agree  with  him 
that  it  would  do  so  if  it  were  a  grave 
risk  to  life.  But  although  it  is  a  real 
danger,  it  is  not  a  very  serious  risk. 
Not  many  cases  can  be  quoted  of  acci- 
dents which  have  happened  through 
falling  stones,  and  I  do  not  know  an 
instance  of  life  having  been  lost  in  this 
way  in  the  High  Alps.*  I  suppose, 
however,  few  persons  will  maintain  that 
it  is  unjustifiable  to  do  anything,  for 
sport  or  otherwise,  so  long  as  any  risk 
is  incurred,  else  it  would  be  unjusti- 
fiable to  cross  Fleet  street  at  mid-day. 
If  it  were  one's  bounden  duty  to  avoid 
every  risk,  we  should  have  to  pass  our 
lives  indoors.  I  conceive  that  the  pleas- 
ures of  mountaineering  outweigh  the 
risks  arising  from  this  particular  cause, 
and  that  the  practice  will  not  be  vetoed 
on  its  account.  Still,  I  wish  to  stamp 
it  as  a  positive  danger,  and  as  one 
which  may  imperil  the  life  of  the  most 
perfect  mountaineer. 

This  digression  has  been  caused  by 
an  innocent  gully  which  I  feared  the 
reader  might  think  was  dangerous.  It 
was  an  untrodden  vestibule,  which  led 
to  a  scene  so  wild  that  even  the  most 
sober  description  of  it  must  seem  an 
exaggeration.  There  was  a  change  in 
the  quality  of  the  rock,  and  there  was 
a  change  in  the  appearance  of  the 
ridge.  The  rocks  (talcose  gneiss)  be- 
low this  spot  were  singularly  firm — it 
was  rarely  necessary  to  test  one's  hold : 
the  way  led  over  the  living  rock,  and 
not  up  rent-off  fragments.  But  here 
all  was  decay  and  ruin.  The  crest  of 
the  ridge  was  shattered  and  cleft,  and 
the  feet  sank  in  the  chips  which  had 
drifted  down  ;  while  above,  huge  blocks, 
hacked  and  carved  by  the  hand  of 

*  The  contrary  is  the  case  in  regard  to  the  Lower 
Alps.  Amongst  others,  the  case  may  be  mentioned 
of  a  lady  who  (not  very  long  ago)  had  her  skull  frac- 
tured while  sitting  at  the  base  of  the  Mer  de  Glace. 


time,  nodded  to  the  sky,  looking  like 
the  gravestones  of  giants.  Out  of  curi- 
osity I  wandered  to  a  notch  in  the  ridge, 
between  two  tottering  piles  of  immense 
masses  which  seemed  to  need  but  a  few 
pounds  on  one  or  the  other  side  to 
make  them  fall,  so  nicely  poised  that 
they  would  literally  have  rocked  in  the 
wind,  for  they  were  put  in  motion  by  a 
touch,  and  based  on  support  so  frail 
that  I  wondered  they  did  not  collapse 
before  my  eyes.  In  the  whole  range 
of  my  Alpine  experience  I  have  seen 
nothing  more  striking  than  this  deso- 
late, ruined  and  shattered  ridge  at  the 
back  of  the  Great  Tower.  I  have  seen 
stranger  shapes  —  rocks  which  mimic 
the  human  form,  with  monstrous  leering 
faces,  and  isolated  pinnacles  sharper 
and  greater  than  any  here — but  I  have 
never  seen  exhibited  so  impressively  the 
tremendous  effects  which  may  be  pro- 
duced by  frost,  and  by  the  long-con- 
tinued action  of  forces  whose  individual 
effects  are  imperceptible. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  climb  by  the  crest  of  the  ridge  at 
this  part :  still,  one  is  compelled  to  keep 
near  to  it,  for  there  is  no  other  way. 
Generally  speaking,  the  angles  on  the 
Matterhorn  are  too  steep  to  allow  the 
formation  of  considerable  beds  of  snow, 
but  here  there  is  a  corner  which  per- 
mits it  to  accumulate, .and  it  is  turned 
to  gratefully,  for  by  its  assistance  one 
can  ascend  four  times  as  rapidly  as 
upon  the  rocks. 

The  Tower  was  now  almost  out  of 
sight,  and  I  looked  over  the  central 
Pennine  Alps  to  the  Grand  Combin 
and  to  the  chain  of  Mont  Blanc.  My 
neighbor,  the  Dent  d'Herens,  still  rose 
above  me,  although  but  slightly,  and 
the  height  which  had  been  attained 
could  be  measured  by  its  help.  So  far, 
I  had  no  doubts  about  my  capacity  to 
descend  that  which  had  been  ascended  ; 
but  in  a  short  time,  on  looking  ahead,  I 
saw  that  the  cliffs  steepened,  and  I  turn- 
ed back  (without  pushing  on  to  them  and 
getting  into  inextricable  difficulties),  ex- 
ulting in  the  thought  that  they  would  be 
passed  when  we  returned  together,  and 
that  I  had  without  assistance  got  nearly 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


to  the  height  of  the  Dent  d'Herens,  and 
considerably  higher  than  any  one  had 
been  before.*  My  exultation  was  a 
little  premature. 

About  five  P.  M.  I  left  the  tent  again, 
and  thought  myself  as  good  as  at  Breuil. 
The  friendly  rope  and  claw  had  done 
good  service,  and  had  smoothed  all  the 
difficulties.  I  lowered  myself  through 
the  Chimney,  however,  by  making  a 
fixture  of  the  rope,  which  I  then  cut  off 
and  left  behind,  as  there  was  enough 
and  to  spare.  My  axe  had  proved  a 
great  nuisance  in  coming  down,  and  I 
left  it  in  the  tent.  It  was  not  attached 
to  the  baton,  but  was  a  separate  affair 
— an  old  navy  boarding-axe.  While 
cutting  up  the  different  snow-beds  on 
the  ascent,  the  baton  trailed  behind 
fastened  to  the  rope  ;  and  when  climb- 
ing the  axe  was  carried  behind,  run 
through  the  rope  tied  round  my  waist, 
and  was  sufficiently  out  of  the  way ; 
but  in  descending,  when  coming  down 
face  outward  (as  is  always  best  where 
it  is  possible),  the  head  or  the  handle 
of  the  weapon  caught  frequently  against 
the  rocks,  and  several  times  nearly  up- 
set me.  So,  out  of  laziness  if  you  will, 
it  was  left  in  the  tent.  I  paid  dearly 
for  the  imprudence. 

The  Col  du  Lion  was  passed,  and 
fifty  yards  more  would  have  placed  me 
on  the  "Great  Staircase,"  down  which 
one  can  run.  But  on  arriving  at  an 
angle  of  the  cliffs  of  the  Tete  du  Lion, 
while  skirting  the  upper  edge  of  the 
snow  which  abuts  against  them,  I  found 
that  the  heat  of  the  two  past  days  had 
nearly  obliterated  the  steps  which  had 
been  cut  when  coming  up.  The  rocks 
happened  to  be  impracticable  just  at 
this  corner,  so  nothing  could  be  done 
except  make  the  steps  afresh.  The 
snow  was  too  hard  to  beat  or  tread 
down,  and  at  the  angle  it  was  all  but 
ice  :  half  a  dozen  steps  only  were  re- 
quired, and  then  the  ledges  could  be 
followed  again.  So  I  held  to  the  rock 

*  A  remarkable  streak  of  snow  (marked  "  cravate  " 
in  the  outline  of  the  Matterhorn  as  seen  from  the 
Theodule)  runs  across  the  cliff  at  this  part  of  the 
mountain.  My  highest  point  was  somewhat  higher 
than  the  lowest  part  of  this  snow,  and  wes  conseqently 
nearly  13,500  feet  above  the  sea. 


with  my  right  hand,  and  prodded  at  the 
snow  with  the  point  of  my  stick  until  a 
good  step  was  made,  and  then,  leaning 
round  the  angle,  did  the  same  for  the 
other  side.  So  far  well,  but  in  attempt- 
ing to  pass  the  corner  (to  the  present 
moment  I  cannot  tell  how  it  happened) 
I  slipped  and  fell. 

The  slope  was  steep  on  which  this 
took  place,  and  descended  to  the  top 
of  a  gully  that  led  down  through  two 
subordinate  buttresses  toward  the  Gla- 
cier du  Lion,  which  was  just  seen,  a 
thousand  feet  below.  The  gully  nar- 
rowed and  narrowed  until  there  was  a 
mere  thread  of  snow  lying  between  two 
walls  of  rock,  which  came  to  an  abrupt 
termination  at  the  top  of  a  precipice 
that  intervened  between  it  and  the  gla- 
cier. Imagine  a  funnel  cut  in  half 
through  its  length,  placed  at  an  angle 
of  forty-five  degrees,  with  its  point  be- 
low and  its  concave  side  uppermost, 
and  you  will  have  a  fair  idea  of  the 
place. 

The  knapsack  brought  my  head  down 
first,  and  I  pitched  into  some  rocks 
about  a  dozen  feet  below :  they  caught 
something  and  tumbled  me  off  the  edge, 
head  over  heels,  into  the  gully.  The 
baton  was  dashed  from  my  hands,  and 
I  whirled  downward  in  a  series  of 
bounds,  each  longer  than  the  last — now 
over  ice,  now  into  rocks — striking  my 
head  four  or  five  times,  each  time  with 
increased  force.  The  last  bound  sent 
me  spinning  through  the  air,  in  a  leap 
of  fifty  or  sixty  feet,  from  one  side  of 
the  gully  to  the  other,  and  I  struck  the 
rocks,  luckily,  with  the  whole  of  my 
left  side.  They  caught  my  clothes  for 
a  moment,  and  I  fell  back  on  to  the 
snow  with  motion  arrested :  my  head 
fortunately  came  the  right  side  up,  and 
a  few  frantic  catches  brought  me  to  a 
halt  in  the  neck  of  the  gully  and  on  the 
verge  of  the  precipice.  Baton,  hat  and 
veil  skimmed  by  and  disappeared,  and 
the  crash  of  the  rocks  which  I  had  start- 
ed, as  they  fell  on  to  the  glacier,  told 
how  narrow  had  been  the  escape  from 
utter  destruction.  As  it  was,  I  fell  near- 
ly two  hundred  feet  in  seven  or  eight 
bounds.  Ten  feet  more  would  have 


"IN  ATTEMPTING  TO  PASS  THE  CORNER  I  SLIPPED  AND  FELL1 


or  TH» 

TJUIVBRSITT 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


55 


taken  me  in  one  gigantic  leap  of  eight 
hundred  feet  on  to  the  glacier  below. 

The  situation  was  still  sufficiently  se- 
rious. The  rocks  could  not  be  left  go 
for  a  moment,  and  the  blood  was  spurt- 
ing out  of  more  than  twenty  cuts.  The 
most  serious  ones  were  in  the  head,  and 
I  vainly  tried  to  close  them  with  one 
hand  while  holding  on  with  the  other. 
It  was  useless  :  the  blood  jerked  out  in 
blinding  jets  at  each  pulsation.  At  last, 
in  a  moment  of  inspiration,  I  kicked 
out  a  big  lump  of  snow  and  stuck  it  as 
a  plaster  on  my  head.  The  idea  was  a 
happy  one,  and  the  flow  of  blood  dimin- 
ished :  then,  scrambling  up,  I  got,  not  a 
moment  too  soon,  to  a  place  of  safety 
and  fainted  away.  The  sun  was  setting 
when  consciousness  returned,  and  it  was 
pitch  dark  before  the  Great  Staircase 
was  descended  ;  but  by  a  combination 
of  luck  and  care  the  whole  forty-eight 
hundred  feet  of  descent  to  Breuil  was 
accomplished  without  a  slip  or  once 
missing  the  way.  I  slunk  past  the  cabin 
of  the  cowherds,  who  were  talking  and 
laughing  inside,  utterly  ashamed  of  the 
state  to  which  I  had  been  brought  by 
my  imbecility,  and  entered  the  inn 
stealthily,  wishing  to  escape  to  my  room 
unnoticed.  But  Favre.  met  me  in  the 
passage,  demanded,  "Who  is  it?" 
screamed  with  fright  when  he  got  a 
light,  and  aroused  the  household.  Two 
dozen  heads  then  held  solemn  council 
over  mine,  with  more  talk  than  action. 
The  natives  were  unanimous  in  recom- 
mending that  hot  wine  (syn.  vinegar), 
mixed  with  salt,  should  be  rubbed  into 
the  cuts.  I  protested,  but  they  insisted. 
It  was  all  the  doctoring  they  received. 
Whether  their  rapid  healing  was  to  be 
attributed  to  that  simple  remedy  or  to  a 
good  state  of  health,  is  a  question  :  they 
closed  up  remarkably  soon,  and  in  a 
few  days  I  was  able  to  move  again. 

It  was  sufficiently  dull  during  this 
time.  I  was  chiefly  occupied  in  med- 
itating on  the  vanity  of  human  wishes, 
and  in  watching  my  clothes  being  wash- 
ed in  the  tub  which  was  turned  by  the 
stream  in  the  front  of  the  house  ;  and  I 
vowed  that  if  an  Englishman  should  at 
any  time  fall  sick  in  the  Val  Tour- 


nanche,  he   should  not  feel  so  solitary 
as  I  did  at  this  dreary  time.* 

The  news  of  the  accident  brought 
Jean-Antoine  Carrel  up  to  Breuil,  and 
along  with  the  haughty  chasseur  came 
one  of  his-  relatives,  a  strong  and  able 
young  fellow  named  Caesar.  With  these 
two  men  and  Meynet  I  made  another 
start  on  the  23d  of  July.  We  got  to 
the  tent  without  any  trouble,  and  on 
the  following  day  had  ascended  beyond 
the  Tower,  and  were  picking  our  way 
cautiously  over  the  loose  rocks  behind 
(where  my  traces  of  the  week  before 
were  well  apparent)  in  lovely  weather, 
when  one  of  those  abominable  and 
almost  instantaneous  changes  occurred 
to  which  the  Matterhorn  is  so  liable  on  its 
southern  side.  Mists  were  created  out  of 
invisible  vapors,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
snow  fell  heavily.  We  stopped,  as  this 
part  was  of  excessive  difficulty,  and, 
unwilling  to  retreat,  remained' on  the 
spot  several  hours,  in  hopes  that  an- 
other change  would  occur;  but  as  it 
did  not,  we  at  length  went  down  to  the 


*  As  it  seldom  happens  that  one  survives  such  a 
fall,  it  may  be  interesting  to  record  what  my  sensa- 
tions were  during  its  occurrence.  I  was  perfectly 
conscious  of  what  was  happening,  and  felt  each  blow, 
but,  like  a  patient  under  chloroform,  experienced  no 
pain.  Each  blow  was,  naturally,  more  severe  than 
that  which  preceded  it,  and  I  distinctly  remember 
thinking,  "  Well,  if  the  next  is  harder  still,  that  will 
be  the  end!"  Like  persons  who  have  been  rescued 
from  drowning,  I  remember  that  the  recollection  of  a 
multitude  of  things  rushed  through  my  head,  many 
of  them  trivialities  or  absurdities  which  had  been  for- 
gotten long  before;  and,  more  remarkable,  this  bound- 
ing through  space  did  not  feel  disagreeable.  But  I 
think  that  in  no  very  great  distance  more  conscious- 
ness as  well  as  sensation  would  have  been  lost,  and 
upon  that  1  base  my  belief,  improbable  as  it  seems, 
that  death  by  a  fall  from  a  great  height  is  as  painless 
an  end  as  can  be  experienced. 

The  battering  was  very  rough,  yet  no  bones  were 
broken.  The  most  severe  cuts  were — one  four  inches 
long  on  the  top  of  the  head,  and  another  of  three 
inches  on  the  right  temple  :  this  latter  bled  frightfully. 
There  was  a  formidable-looking  cut,  of  about  the 
same  size  as  the  last,  on  the  palm  of  the  left  hand, 
and  every  limb  was  grazed  or  cut  more  or  less  seri- 
ously. The  tips  of  the  ears  were  taken  off,  and  a 
sharp  rock  cut  a  circular  bit  out  of  the  side  of  the  left 
boot,  sock  and  ankle  at  one  stroke.  The  loss  of  blood 
although  so  great,  did  not  seem  to  be  permanently  in- 
jurious. The  only  serious  effect  has  been  the  reduc- 
tion of  a  naturally  retentive  memory  to  a  very  com- 
monplace one ;  and  although  my  recollections  of  more 
distant  occurrences  remain  unshaken,  the  events  of 
that  particular  day  would  be  clean  gone  but  for  the  few 
notes  which  were  written  down  before  the  accident. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


base  of  the  Tower,  and  commenced  to 
make  a  third  platform,  at  the  height  of 
12,992  feet  above  the  sea.  It  still  con- 
tinued to  snow,  and  we  took  refuge  in 
the  tent.  Carrel  argued  that  the  weath- 
er had  broken  up,  and  that  the  moun- 
tain would  become  so  glazed  with  ice 
as  to  render  any  attempt  futile  ;  and  I, 
that  the  change  was  only  temporary, 
and  that  the  rocks  were  too  hot  to  allow 
ice  to  form  upon  them.  I  wished  to 
stay  until  the  weather  improved,  but 
my  leader  would  not  endure  contradic- 
tion, grew  more  positive  and  insisted 
that  we  must  go  down.  We  went  down, 
and  when  we  got  below  the  col  his  opin- 
ion was  found  to  be  wrong :  the  cloud 
was  confined  to  the  upper  three  thou- 
sand feet,  and  outside  it  there  was  bril- 
liant weather. 

Carrel  was  not  an  easy  man  to  man- 
age. He  was  perfectly  aware  that  he 
was  the  cock  of  the  Val  Tournanche, 
and  he  commanded  the  other  men  as 
by  right.  He  was  equally  conscious 
that  he  was  indispensable  to  me,  and 
took  no  pains  to  conceal  his  knowledge 
of  the  fact.  If  he  had  been  command- 
ed or  if  he  had  been  entreated  to  stop, 
it  would  have  been  all  the  same.  But, 
let  me  repeat,  he  was  the  only  first-rate 
climber  I  could  find  who  believed  that 
the  mountain  was  not  inaccessible.  With 
him  I  had  hopes,  but  without  him  none  ; 
so  he  was  allowed  to  do  as  he  would. 
His  will  on  this  occasion  was  almost 
incomprehensible.  He  certainly  could 
not  be  charged  with  cowardice,  for  a 
bolder  man  could  hardly  be  found  ;  nor 
was  he  turning  away  on  account  of 
difficulty,  for  nothing  to  which  we  had 
yet  come  seemed  to  be  difficult  to  him  ; 
and  his  strong  personal  desire  to  make 
the  ascent  was  evident.  There  was  no 
occasion  to  come  down  on  account  of 
food,  for  we  had  taken,  to  guard  against 
this  very  casualty,  enough  to  last  for  a 
week ;  and  there  was  no  danger  and 
little  or  no  discomfort  in  stopping  in 
the  tent.  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  was 
spinning  out  the  ascent  for  his  own  pur- 
poses, and  that  although  he  wished  very 
much  to  be  the  first  man  on  the  top, 
and  did  not  object  to  be  accompanied 


by  any  one  else  who  had  the  same  wish, 
he  had  no  intention  of  letting  one  suc- 
ceed too  soon — perhaps  to  give  a  great- 
er appearance  of  eclat  when  the  thing 
was  accomplished.  As  he  feared  no 
rival,  he  may  have  supposed  that  the 
more  difficulties  he  made  the  more  valu- 
able he  would  be  estimated,  though,  to 
do  him  justice,  he  never  showed  any 
great  hunger  for  money.  His  demands 
were  fair,  not  excessive  ;  but  he  always 
stipulated  for  so  much  per  day,  and  so, 
under  any  circumstances,  he  did  not  do 
badly. 

Vexed  at  having  my  time  thus  fritter- 
ed away,  I  was  still  well  pleased  when 
he  volunteered  to  start  again  on  the 
morrow  if  it  was  fine.  We  were  to  ad- 
vance the  tent  to  the  foot  of  the  Tower, 
to  fix  ropes  in  the  most  difficult  parts 
beyond,  and  to  make  a  push  for  the 
summit  on  the  following  day. 

The  next  morning  (Friday,  the  25th), 
when  I  arose,  good  little  Meynet  was 
ready  and  waiting,  and  he  said  that  the 
two  Carrels  had  gone  off  some  time  be- 
fore, and  had  left  word  that  they  intend- 
ed marmot-hunting,  as  the  day  was 
favorable  for  that  sport.  My  holiday 
had  nearly  expired,  and  these  men 
clearly  could  not  be  relied  upon ;  so, 
as  a  last  resort,  I  proposed  to  the  hunch- 
back to  accompany  me  alone,  to  see  if 
we  could  not  get  higher  than  before, 
though  of  reaching  the  summit  there 
was  little  or  no  hope.  He  did  not  hesi- 
tate, and  in  a  few  hours  we  stood — for 
the  third  time  together — upon  the  Col 
du  Lion,  but  it  was  the  first  time  Mey- 
net had  seen  the  view  unclouded.  The 
poor  little  deformed  peasant  gazed  upon 
it.  silently  and  reverently  for  a  time,  and 
then  unconsciously  fell  on  one  knee  in 
an  attitude  of  adoration,  and  clasped 
his  hands,  exclaiming  in  ecstasy,  "O 
beautiful  mountains  !"  His  actions  were 
as  appropriate  as  his  words  were  natural, 
and  tears  bore  witness  to  the  reality  of 
his  emotion. 

Our  power  was  too  limited  to  advance 
the  tent,  so  we  slept  at  the  old  station, 
and,  starting  very  early  the  next  morn- 
ing, passed  the  place  where  we  had 
turned  back  on  the  24th,  and  subse 


A  CANNONADE  ON  THE  MATTERHORN,    (1862.) 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


57 


quently  my  highest  point  on  the  I9th. 
We  found  the  crest  of  the  ridge  so 
treacherous  that  we  took  to  the  cliffs  on 
the  right,  although  most  unwillingly. 
Little  by  little  we  fought  our  way  up, 
but  at  length  we  were  both  spread- 
eagled  on  the  ail-but  perpendicular  face, 
unable  to  advance  and  barely  able  to 
descend.  We  returned  to  the  ridge.  It 
was  almost  equally  difficult,  and  infin- 
itely more  unstable ;  and  at  length, 
after  having  pushed  our  attempts  as  far 
as  was  prudent,  I  determined  to  return 
to  Breuil,  and  to  have  a  light  ladder 
made  to  assist  us  to  overcome  some  of 
the  steepest  parts.  I  expected,  too,  that 
by  this  time  Carrel  would  have  had 
enough  marmot -hunting,  and  would 
deign  to  accompany  us  again. 

We  came  down  at  a  great  pace,  for 
we  were  now  so  familiar  with  the  moun- 
tain and  with  each  other's  wants  that 
we  knew  immediately  when  to  give  a 
helping  -hand  and  when  to  let  alone. 
The  rocks  also  were  in  a  better  state 
than  I  have  ever  seen  them,  being 
almost  entirely  free  from  glaze  of  ice. 
Meynet  was  always  merriest  on  the 
difficult  parts,  and  on  the  most  difficult 
kept  on  enunciating  the  sentiment,  "  We 
can  only  die  once,"  which  thought 
seemed  to  afford  him  infinite  satisfac- 
tion. We  arrived  at  the  inn  early  in 
the  evening,  and  I  found  my  projects 
summarily  and  unexpectedly  knocked 
on  the  head. 

Professor  Tyndall  had  arrived  while 
we  were  absent,  and  he  had  engaged 
both  Caesar  and  Jean-Antoine  Carrel. 
Bennen  was  also  with  him,  together 
with  a  powerful  and  active  friend,  a 
Valaisan  guide  named  Anton  Walter. 
They  had  a  ladder  already  prepared, 
provisions  were  being  collected,  and 
they  intended  to  start  on  the  following 
morning  (Sunday).  This  new  arrival 
took  me  by  surprise.  Bennen,  it  will 
be  remembered,  refused  point-blank  to 
take  Professor  Tyndall  on  the  Matter- 
horn  in  1861.  "He  was  dead  against 
any  attempt  on  the  mountain,"  says 
Tyndall.  He  was  now  eager  to  set  out. 
Professor  Tyndall  has  not  explained  in 
what  way  this  revolution  came  about  in 


his  guide.  I  was  equally  astonished  at 
the  faithlessness  of  Carrel,  and  attributed 
it  to  pique  at  our  having  presumed  to  do 
without  him.  It  was  useless  to  compete 
with  the  professor  and  his  four  men, 
who  were  ready  to  start  in  a  few  hours, 
so  I  waited  to  see  what  would  come  of 
their  attempt. 

Everything  seemed  to  favor  it,  and 
they  set  out  on  a  fine  morning  in  high 
spirits,  leaving  me  tormented  with  envy 
and  all  uncharitableness.  If  they  suc- 
ceeded, they  carried  off  the  prize  for 
which  I  had  been  so  long  struggling ; 
and  if  they  failed,  there  was  no  time  to 
make  another  attempt,  for  I  was  due  in 
a  few  days  more  in  London.  When 
this  came  home  clearly  to  me,  I  re- 
solved to  leave  Breuil  at  once,  but  when 
packing  up  found  that  some  necessaries 
had  been  left  behind  in  the  tent.  So  I 
went  off  about  mid-day  to  recover  them, 
caught  the  army  of  the  professor  before 
it  reached  the  col,  as  they  were  going 
very  slowly,  left  them  there  (stopping  to 
take  food)  and  went  on  to  the  tent.  I 
was  near  to  it  when  all  at  once  I  heard 
a  noise  aloft,  and  on  looking  up  per- 
ceived a  stone  of  at  least  a  foot  cube 
flying  straight  at  my  head.  I  ducked 
and  scrambled  under  the  lee  side  of  a 
friendly  rock,  while  the  stone  went  by 
with  a  loud  buzz.  It  was  the  advanced 
guard  of  a  perfect  storm  of  stones,  which 
descended  with  infernal  clatter  down 
the  very  edge  of  the  ridge,  leaving  a 
trail  of  dust  behind,  with  a  strong  smell 
of  sulphur  that  told  who  had  sent  them. 
The  men  below  were  on  the  look-out, 
but  the  stones  did  not  come  near  them, 
and  breaking  away  on  one  side  went 
down  to  the  glacier. 

I  waited  at  the  tent  to  welcome  the 
professor,  and  when  he  arrived  went 
down  to  Breuil.  Early  next  morning 
some  one  ran  to  me  saying  that  a  flag 
was  seen  on  the  summit  of  the  Matter- 
horn.  It  was  not  so,  however,  although 
I  saw  that  they  had  passed  the  place 
where  we  had  turned  back  on  the  26th. 
I  had  now  no  doubt  of  their  final  suc- 
cess, for  they  had  got  beyond  the  point 
which  Carrel,  not  less  than  myself,  had 
always  considered  to  be  the  most  ques- 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


tionable  place  on  the  whole  mountain. 
Up  to  it  there  .was  no  choice  of  route — 
I  suppose  that  at  no  one  point  between 
it  and  the  col  was  it  possible  to  diverge 
a  dozen  paces  to  the  right  or  left — but 
beyond  it  it  was  otherwise,  and  we  had 
always  agreed  in  our  debates  that  if  it 
could  be  passed  success  was  certain. 


The  accompanying  outline  from  a 
sketch  taken  from  the  door  of  the  inn 
at  Breuil  will  help  to  explain.  The  let- 
ter A  indicates  the  position  of  the  Great 
Tower;  C,  the  "cravate"  (the  strongly- 
marked  streak  of  snow  referred  to  in 
note  on  page  54,  and  which  we  just 
failed  to  arrive  at  on  the  26th)  ;  B,  the 


place  where  we  now  saw  something 
that  looked  like  a  flag.  Behind  the 
point  B  a  nearly  level  ridge  leads  up  to 
the  foot  of  the  rinal  peak,  which  will  be 
understood  by  a  reference  to  the  outline 
on  page  46,  on  which  the  same  letters 
indicate  the  same  places.  It  was  just 
now  said,  we  considered  that  if  the 
point  C  could  be  passed,  success  was 
certain.  Tyndall  was  at  B  very  early  in 
the  morning,  and  I  did  not  doubt  that 
he  would  reach  the  summit,  although  it 
yet  remained  problematical  whether  he 
would  be  able  to  stand  on  the  very 
highest  point.  The  summit  was  evi- 
dently formed  of  a  long  ridge,  on  which 
there  were  two  points  nearly  equally 
elevated — so  equally  that  one  could  not 
say  which  was  the  highest — and  between 
the  two  there  seemed  to  be  a  deep  notch, 
marked  D  on  the  outlines,  which  might 
defeat  one  at  the  very  last  moment. 

My  knapsack  was  packed,  and  I  had 
drunk   a   parting    glass    of    wine   with 


Favre,  who  was  jubilant  at  the  success 
which  was  to  make  the  fortune  of  his 
inn,  but  I  could  not  bring  myself  to 
leave  until  the  result  was  heard,  and 
lingered  about,  as  a  foolish  lover  hovers 
round  the  object  of  his  affections  even 
after  he  has  been  contemptuously  re- 
jected. The  sun  had  set  before  the 
men  were  descried  coming  over  the 
pastures.  There  was  no  spring  in  their 
steps :  they  too  were  defeated.  The 
Carrels  hid  their  heads,  but  the  others 
said,  as  men  will  do  when  they  have 
been  beaten,  that  the  mountain  was 
horrible,  impossible,  and  so  forth.  Pro- 
fessor Tyndall  told  me  they  had  arrived 
within  a  stone  s  throw  of  the  summit, 
and  admonished  me  to  have  nothing 
more  to  do  with  the  mountain.  I  un- 
derstood him  to  say  that  he  should  not 
try  again,  and  ran  down  to  the  village 
of  Val  Tournanche,  almost  inclined  to 
believe  that  the  mountain  was  inaccessi- 
ble, leaving  the  tent,  ropes  and  other 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


59 


matters  in  the  hands  of  Favre,  to  be 
placed  at  the  disposal  of  any  person 
who  wished  to  ascend  it — more,  I  am 
afraid,  out  of  irony  than  generosity. 
There  may  have  been  those  who  be- 


lieved that  the  Matterhorn  could  be 
ascended,  but  anyhow  their  faith  did 
not  bring  forth  works.  No  one  tried 
again  in  1862. 


IV. 


"  UU T    WHAT    IS    THIS?" 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  VAL  TOURNANCHE  —  THE  BREUILJOCH 
—  ZERMATT —  ASCENT  OK  THE  GRAND 
TOURNALIN. 

I  CROSSED  the  Channel  on  the  29th 
of  July,  ^1863,  embarrassed  by  the 
possession  of  two  ladders,  each  twelve 
feet  long,  which  joined  together  like 
those  used  by  firemen,  and  shut  up  like 
parallel  rulers.  My  luggage  was  high- 
ly suggestive  of  housebreaking,  for,  be- 
sides these,  there 'were  several  coils  of 
rope  and  numerous  tools  of  suspicious 
appearance  ;  and  it  was  reluctantly  ad- 
mitted into  France,  but  it  passed  through 
the  custom-house  with  less  trouble  than 
I  anticipated,  after  a  timely  expenditure 
of  a  few  francs. 

I  am  not  in  love  with  the  douane.     It 
is  the  purgatory  of  travelers,  where  un- 


congenial spirits  mingle  together  for  a 
time  before  they  are  separated  into  rich 
and  poor.  The  douaniers  look  upon 
tourists  as  their  natural  enemies  :  see 
how  eagerly  they  pounce  upon  the  port- 
manteaus !  One  of  them  has  discover- 
ed something.  He  has  never  seen  its 
like  before,  and  he  holds  it  aloft  in  the 
the  face  of  its  owner  with  inquisitorial 
insolence:  "But  what  is  this?"  The 
explanation  is  but  half  satisfactory 
"But  what  is  this?"  says  he,  laying 
hold  of  a  little  box.  "Powder."  "But 
that  is  forbidden  to  carry  of  powder  on 
the  railway."  "Bah!"  says  another 
and  older  hand,  "pass  the  effects  of 
monsieur ;"  and  our  countryman  — 
whose  cheeks  had  begun  to  redden 
under  the  stares  of  his  fellow-travelers — 
is  allowed  to  depart  with  his  half-worn 


OF  T 


6o 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


tooth-brush,  while  the  discomfited  dou- 
anier  gives  a  mighty  shrug  at  the  strange 
habits  of  those  "whose  insular  position 
excludes  them  from  the  march  of  con- 
tinental ideas." 

My  real  troubles  commenced  at  Susa. 
The  officials  there,  more  honest  and 
more  obtuse  than  the  Frenchmen,  de- 
clined at  one  and  the  same  time  to  be 
bribed  or  to  pass  my  baggage  until  a 
satisfactory  account  of  it  was  rendered  ; 
and  as  they  refused  to  believe  the  true 
explanation,  I  was  puzzled  what  to  say, 
but  was  presently  relieved  from  the  di- 
lemma by  one  of  the  men,  who  was 
cleverer  than  his  fellows,  suggesting 
that  I  was  going  to  Turin  to  exhibit  in 
the  streets — that  I  mounted  the  ladder 
and  balanced  myself  on  the  end  of  it, 
then  lighted  my  pipe  and  put  the  point 
of  the  baton  in  its  bowl,  and  caused  the 
baton  to  gyrate  around  my  head.  The 
rope  was  to  keep  back  the  spectators, 
and  an  Englishman  in  my  company 
was  the  agent.  "  Monsieur  is  acrobat, 
then?"  "Yes,  certainly."  "Pass  the 
effects  of  monsieur  the  acrobat!" 

These  ladders  were  the  source  of  end- 
less trouble.  Let  us  pass  over  the  doubts 
of  the  guardians  of  the  Hotel  d'Europe 
(Trombetta)  whether  a  person  in  the 
possession  of  such  questionable  articles 
should  be  admitted  to  their  very  respect- 
able house,  and  get  to  Chatillon,  at  the 
entrance  of  the  Val  Tournanche.  A 
mule  was  chartered  to  carry  them,  and 
as  they  were  too  long  to  sling  across  its 
back,  they  were  arranged  lengthways, 
and  one  end  projected  over  the  ani- 
mal's head,  while  the  other  extended 
beyond'its  tail.  A  mule  when  going  up 
or  down  hill  always  moves  with  a  jerky 
action,  and  in  consequence  of  this  the 
ladders  hit  my  mule  severe  blows  be- 
tween its  ears  and  its  flanks.  The 
beast,  not  knowing  what  strange  crea- 
ture it  had  on  its  back,  naturally  tossed 
its  head  and  threw  out  its  legs,  and 
this,  of  course,  only  made  the  blows  that 
it  received  more  severe.  At  last  it  ran 
away,  and  would  have  perished  by  roll- 
ing down  a  precipice  if  the  men  had  not 
caught  hold  of  its  tail.  The  end  of  the 
matter  was,  that  a  man  had  to  follow 


the  mule,  holding  the  end  of  the  lad- 
ders, which  obliged  him  to  move  his 
arms  up  and  down  incessantly,  and  to 
bow  to  the  hind  quarters  of  the  animal 
in  a  way  that  afforded  more  amusement 
to  his  comrades  than  it  did  to  him. 

I  was  once  more  en  route  for  the  Mat- 
terhorn,  for  I  had  heard  in  the  spring 
of  1863  the  cause  of  the  failure  of  Pro- 
fessor Tyndall,  and  learned  that  the 
case  was  not  so  hopeless  as  it  appeared 
to  be  at  one  time.  I  found  that  he  ar- 
rived as  far  only  as  the  northern  end  of 
"the  shoulder."  Carrel  and  all  the  men 
who  had  been  with  me  knew  of  the  exist- 
ence of  the  cleft  at  this  point,  and  of  the 
pinnacle  which  rose  between  it  and  the 
final  peak,  and  we  had  frequently  talk- 
ed about  the  best  manner  of  passing  the 
place.  On  this  we  disagreed,  but  we 
were  both  of  opinion  that  when  we  got 
to  "  the  shoulder  "  it  would  be  necessary 
to  bear  gradually  to  the  right  or  to  the 
left,  to  avoid  coming  to  the  top  of  the 
notch.  But  Tyndall's  party,  after  ar- 
riving at  "the  shoulder,"  were  led  by 
his  guides  along  the  crest  of  the  ridge, 
and  consequently  when  they  got  to  its 
northern  end  they  came  to  the  top  of 
the  notch,  instead  of  the  bottom — to  the 
dismay  of  all  but  the  Carrels.  Dr.  Tyn- 
dall's words  are:  " The  ridge  was  here 
split  by  a  deep  cleft  which  separated  it 
from  the  final  precipice,  and  the  case 
became  more  hopeless  as  we  came  more 
near."  The  professor  adds:  "The 
mountain  is  14,800  feet  high,  and  14,600 
feet  had  been  acomplished."  He  great- 
ly deceived  himself:  by  the  barometric 
measurements  of  Signer  Giordano  the 
notch  is  no  less  than  800  feet  below  the 
summit.  The  guide  Walter  (Dr.  Tyn- 
dall says)  said  it  was  impossible  to  pro- 
ceed, and  the  Carrels,  appealed  to  for 
their  opinion  (this  is  their  own  account), 
gave  as  an  answer,  "  We  are  porters — 
ask  your  guides."  Bennen,  thus  left  to 
himself,  "  was  finally  forced  to  accept 
defeat."  Tyndall  had  nevertheless  ac- 
complished an  advance  of  about  four 
hundred  feet  over  one  of  the  most  dif- 
ficult parts  of  the  mountain. 

The  Val  Tournanche  is  one  of  the 
most  charming  valleys  in  the  Italian 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  JN  i86o-'69. 


61 


Alps :  it  is  a  paradise  to  an  artist,  and 
if  the  space  at  my  command  were 
greater,  I  would  willingly  linger  over  its 
groves  of  chestnuts,  its  bright  trickling 
rills  and  its  roaring  torrents,  its  upland 
unsuspected  valleys  and  its  noble  cliffs. 
The  path  rises  steeply  from  Chatillon, 
but  it  is  well  shaded,  and  the  heat  of 
the  summer  sun  is  tempered  by  cool  air 
and  spray  which  comes  off  the  ice-cold 
streams.  One  sees  from  the  path,  at 
several  places  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
valley,  groups  of  arches  which  have 
been  built  high  up  against  the  faces 
of  the  cliffs.  Guide-books  repeat — on 
whose  authority  I  know  not — that  they 
are  the  remains  of  a  Roman  aqueduct. 
They  have  the  Roman  boldness  of  con- 
ception, but  the  work  has  not  the  usual 
Roman  solidity.  The  arches  have  al- 
ways seemed  to  me  to  be  the  remains 
of  an  unfinished  work,  and  I  learn  from 
Jean-Antoine  Carrel  that  there  are  other 
groups  of  arches,  which  are  not  seen 
from  the  path,  all  having  the  same  ap- 
pearance. It  may  be  questioned  wheth- 
er those  seen  near  the  village  of  Antey 
are  Roman.  Some  of  them  are  semi- 
circular, whilst  others  are  distinctly 


pointed.  Here  is  one  of  the  latter, 
which  might  pass  for  fourteenth-century 
work  or  later — a  two-centred  arch,  with 
mean  voussoirs  and  the  masonry  in 
rough  courses.  These  arches  are  well 
worth  the  attention  of  an  archaeologist, 
but  some  difficulty  will  be  found  in  ap- 
proaching them  closely. 

We  sauntered  up  the  valley,  and  got 
to  Breuil  when  all  were  asleep.  A  halo 
round  the  moon  promised  watery  weath- 
er, and  we  were  not  disappointed,  for 
on  the  next  day  (August  i)  rain  fell 


heavily,  and  when  the  clouds  lifted  for 
a  time  we  saw  that  new  snow  lay  thick- 
ly over  everything  higher  than  nine 
thousand  feet.  J.-A.  Carrel  was  ready 
and  waiting  (as  I  had  determined  to 
give  the  bold  cragsman  another  chance); 
and  he  did  not  need  to  say  that  the  Mat- 
terhorn  would  be  impracticable  for  sev- 
eral days  after  all  this  new  snow,  even 
if  the  weather  were  to  arrange  itself  at 
once.  Our  first  day  together  was  ac- 
cordingly spent  upon  a  neighboring 
summit,  the  Cimes  Blanches — a  de- 
graded mountain  well  known  for  its  fine 
panoramic  view.  It  was  little  that  we 
saw,  for  in  every  direction  except  to  the 
south  writhing  masses  of  heavy  clouds 
obscured  everything ;  and  to  the  south 
our  view  was  intercepted  by  a  peak 
higher  than  the  Cimes  Blanches,  named 
the  Grand  Tournalin.  But  we  got  some 
innocent  pleasure  out  of  watching  the 
gambolings  of  a  number  of  goats,  who 
became  fast  friends  after  we  had  given 
them  some  salt — in  fact,  too  fast,  and 
caused  us  no  little  annoyance  when  we 
were  descending.  "Carrel,"  I  said,  as 
a  number  of  stones  whizzed  by  which 
they  had  dislodged,  "this  must  be  put  a 
stop  to."  "Diable!"  he  grunted,  "it  is 
very  well  to  talk,  but  how  will  you  do 
it?"  I  said  that  I  would  try  ;  and  sit- 
ting down  poured  a  little  brandy  into 
the  hollow  of  my  hand,  and  allured  the 
nearest  goat  with  deceitful  gestures.  It 
was  one  who  had  gobbled  up  the  paper 
in  which  the  salt  had  been  carried — an 
animal  of  enterprising  character — and 
it  advanced  fearlessly  and  licked  up 
the  brandy.  I  shall  not  easily  forget  its 
surprise.  It  stopped  short  and  coughed, 
and  looked  at  me  as  much  as  to  say, 
"Oh,  you  cheat!"  and  spat  and  ran 
away,  stopping  now  and  then,  to  cough 
and  spit  again.  We  were  not  troubled 
any  more  by  those  goats. 

More  snow  fell  during  the  night,  and 
our  attempt  on  the  Matterhorn  was  post- 
poned indefinitely.  Carrel  and  I  wan- 
dered out  again  in  the  afternoon,  and 
went,  first  of  all,  to  a  favorite  spot  with 
tourists  near  the  end  of  the  Corner  gla- 
cier (or,  properly  speaking,  the  Boden 
glacier),  to  a  little  verdant  flat  studded 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


with  Euphrasia  ojficinalis,  the  delight 
of  swarms  of  bees,  who  gather  there  the 
honey  which  afterward  appears  at  the 
table  d'hote. 

On  our  right  the  glacier  torrent  thun- 
dered down  the  valley  through  a  gorge 
with  precipitous  sides,  not  easily  ap- 
proached, for  the  turf  at  the  top  was 
slippery,  and  the  rocks  had  everywhere 
been  rounded  by  the  glacier,  which  for- 
merly extended  far  away.  This  gorge 
seems  to  have  been  made  chiefly  by  the 
torrent,  and  to  have  been  excavated 


WATER-WORN    ROCKS    IN  THE   GORGE    BELOW    THE   CORNER    GLACIER. 

subsequently  to  the  retreat  of  the  gla- 
cier. It  seems  so,  because  not  merely 
upon  its  walls  are  there  the  marks  of 
running  water,  but  even  upon  the  round- 
ed rocks  at  the  top  of  its  walls,  at  a 
height  of  seventy  or  eighty  feet  above 
the  present  level  of  the  torrent,  there 
are  some  of  those  queer  concavities 
which  rapid  streams  alone  are  known 
to  produce  on  rocks. 

A  little  bridge,  apparently  frail,  spans 
the  torrent  just  above  the  entrance  to 
this  gorge,  and  from  it  one  perceives 
being  fashioned  in  the  rocks  below  con- 


cavities similar  to  those  to  which  refer- 
ence has  just  been  made.  The  torrent 
is  seen  hurrying  forward.  Not  every- 
where. In  some  places  the  water  strikes 
projecting  angles,  and,  thrown  back  by 
them,  remains  almost  stationary,  eddy- 
ing round  and  round  :  in  others,  ob- 
structions fling  it  up  in  fountains,  which 
play  perpetually  on  the  under  surfaces 
of  overhanging  masses;  and  sometimes 
do  so  in  such  a  way  that  the  water  not 
only  works  upon  the  under  surfaces, 
but  round  the  corner ;  that  is  to  say, 
upon  the  surfaces  which 
are  not  opposed  to  the 
general  direction  of  the 
current.  In  all  cases 
concavities  are  being 
produced.  Projecting 
angles  are  rounded,  it 
is  true,  and  are  more  or 
less  convex,  but  they  are 
overlooked  on  account 
of  the  prevalence  of  con- 
cave forms. 

Cause  and  effect  help 
each  other  here.  The 
inequalities  of  the  tor- 
rent bed  and  walls  cause 
its  eddyings,  and  the 
eddies  fashion  the  con- 
cavities. The  more  pro- 
found the  latter  become, 
•% ',  \sfy';  ^e  more  disturbance  is 

caused  in  the  water.  The 
destruction  of  the  rocks 
proceeds  at  an  ever-in- 
creasing   rate,    for    the 
larger  the  amount  of  sur- 
face that  is  exposed,  the 
greater  are  the  opportunities  for  the  as- 
saults of  heat  and  cold. 

When  water  is  in  the  form  of  glacier 
it  has  not  the  power  of  making  concav- 
ities such  as  these  in  rocks,  and  of  work- 
ing upon  surfaces  which  are  not  opposed 
to  the  direction  of  the  current.  Its  na- 
ture is  changed :  it  operates  in  a  differ- 
ent way,  and  it  leaves  marks  which  are 
readily  distinguished  from  those  pro- 
duced by  torrent  action. 

The  prevailing  forms  which  result 
from  glacier  action  are  more  or  less 
convex.  Ultimately,  all  angles  and 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


almost  all  curves  are  obliterated,  and 
large  areas  of  flat  surfaces  are  pro- 
duced. This  perfection  of  abrasion  is 
rarely  found  except  in  such  localities  as 
have  sustained  a  grinding  much  more 
severe  than  that  which  has  occurred  in 
the  Alps.  Not  merely  can  the  opera- 
tions of  extinct  glaciers  be  traced  in  de- 
tail by  means  of  the  bosses  of  rock  pop- 
ularly termed  roc  he  s  moutonnees,  but 
their  effects  in  the  ag- 
gregate, on  a  range  of 
mountains  or  an  en- 
tire country,  can  be 
recognized  sometimes 
at  a  distance  of  fifteen 
or  twenty  miles,  from 
the  incessant  repeti- 
tion of  these  convex 
forms. 

We  finished  up  the 
3d  of  August  with  a 
walk  over  the  Findel- 
en  glacier,  and  return- 
ed to  Zermatt  at  a  later 
hour  than  we  intend- 
ed, both  very  sleepy. 
This  is  noteworthy 
only  on  account  of 
that  which  followed. 
We  had  to  cross  the 
Col  de  Valpelline  on 
the  next  day,  and  an 
early  start  was  desira- 
ble. Monsieur  Seiler, 
excellent  man !  know- 
ing this,  called  us  him- 
self, and  when  he 
came  to  my  door  I  an- 
swered, "All  right, 
Seiler,  I  will  get  up," 


Seiler  has  acquired  his  enviable  repu- 
tation. 

At  four  A.  M.  we  left  his  Monte  Rosa 
hotel,  and  were  soon  pushing  our  way 
through  the  thickets  of  gray  alder  that 
skirt  the  path  up  the  exquisite  little  val- 
ley which  leads  to  the  Z'muttgletscher. 

Nothing  can  seem  or  be  more  inac- 
cessible than  the  Matterhorn  upon  this 
side,  and  even  in  cold  blood  one  holds 


STRIATIONS    PRODUCED    BY   GLACIER    ACTION    (AT    GRINDELWALD). 


and  immediately  turn- 
ed over  to  the  other  side,  saying  to  my- 
self, "First  of  all,  ten  minutes'  more 
sleep."  But  Seiler  waited  and  listened, 
and,  suspecting  the  case,  knocked 
again  :  "  Herr  Whymper,  have  you  got 
a  light  ?"  Without  thinking  what  the 
consequences  might  be, '  I  answered, 
"No;"  and  then  the  worthy  man  actu- 
ally forced  the  lock  off  his  own  door  to 
give  me  one.  By  similar  and  equally 
friendly  and  disinterested  acts  Monsieur 


his  breath  when  looking  at  its  stupend- 
ous cliffs.  There  are  but  few  equal  to 
them  in  size  in  the  Alps,  and  there  are 
none  which  can  more  truly  be  termed 
precipices.  Greatest  of  them  all  is  the 
immense  north  cliff,  that  which  bends 
over  toward  the  Z'muttgletscher.  Stones 
which  drop  from  the  top  of  that  amaz- 
ing wall  fall  for  about  fifteen  hundred 
feet  before  they  touch  anything,  and 
those  which  roll  down  from  above  and 


64 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


bound  over  it  fall  to  a  much  greater 
depth,  and  leap  wellnigh  one  thousand 
feet  beyond  its  base.  This  side  of  the 
mountain  has  always  seemed  sombre, 
sad,  terrible  :  it  is  painfully  suggestive 
of  decay,  ruin  and  death ;  and  it  is 
now,  alas !  more  than  terrible  by  its 
associations. 

"There  is  no  aspect  of  destruction 
about  the  Matterhorn  cliffs,"  says  Pro- 
fessor Ruskin.  Granted  —  when  they 
are  seen  from  afar.  But  approach  and 
sit  down  by  the  side  of  the  Z'muttglet- 
scher,  and  you  will  hear  that  their  piece- 
meal destruction  is  proceeding  cease- 
lessly, incessantly.  You  will  hear,  but 
probably  you  will  not  see;  for  even 
when  the  descending  masses  thunder 
as  loudly  as  heavy  guns,  and  the  echoes 
roll  back  from  the  Ebihorn  opposite, 
they  will  still  be  as  pin-points  against 
this  grand  old  face,  so  vast  is  its  scale. 

If  you  would  see  the  "aspects  of  de- 
struction," you  must  come  still  closer 
and  climb  its  cliffs  and  ridges,  or  mount 
to  the  plateau  of  the  Matterhornglet- 
scher,  which  is  cut  up  and  ploughed  up 
by  these  missiles,  and  strewn  on  the 
surface  with  their  smaller  fragments : 
the  larger  masses,  falling  with  tremen- 
dous velocity,  plunge  into  the  snow  and 
are  lost  to  sight. 

The  Matterhorngletscher,  too,  sends 
down  its  avalanches,  as  if  in  rivalry 
with  the  rocks  behind.  Round  the 
whole  of  its  northern  side  it  does  not 
terminate  in  the  usual  manner  by  gentle 
slopes,  but  comes  to  a  sudden  end  at 
the  top  of  the  steep  rocks  which  lie  be- 
twixt it  and  the  Z'muttgletscher ;  and 
seldom  does  an  hour  pass  without  a 
huge  slice  breaking  away  and  falling 
with  dreadful  uproar  on  to  the  slopes 
below,  where  it  is  re-compacted. 

The  desolate,  outside  pines  of  the 
Z'mutt  forests,  stripped  of  their  bark 
and  blanched  by  the  weather,  are  a  fit 
foreground  to  a  scene  that  can  hardly 
be  surpassed  in  solemn  grandeur.  It 
is  a  subject  worthy  of  the  pencil  of  a 
great  painter,  and  one  which  would  tax 
the  powers  of  the  very  greatest. 

Higher  up  the  glacier  the  mountain 
is  less  savage  in  appearance,  but  it  is 


not  less  impracticable  ;  and  three  hours 
later,  when  we  arrived  at  the  island  of 
rock  called  the  Stockje  (which  marks 
the  end  of  the  Z'muttgletscher  proper, 
and  which  separates  its  higher  feeder, 
the  Stockgletscher,  from  its  lower  but 
greater  one,  the  Tiefenmatten),  Carrel 
himself,  one  of  the  least  demonstrative 
of  men,  could  not  refrain  from  express- 
ing wonder  at  the  steepness  of  its  faces, 
and  at  the  audacity  that  had  prompted 
us  to  camp  upon  the  south-west  ridge, 
the  profile  of  which  is  seen  very  well 
from  the  Stockje.  Carrel  then  saw  the 
north  and  north-west  sides  of  the  moun- 
tain for  the  first  time,  and  was  more 
firmly  persuaded  than  ever  that  an 
ascent  was  possible  only  from  the  di- 
rection of  Breuil. 

Three  years  afterward,  I  was  travers- 
ing the  same  spot  with  the  guide  Franz 
Biener,  when  all  at  once  a  puff  of  wind 
brought  to  us  a  very  bad  smell,  and  on 
looking  about  we  discovered  a  dead 
chamois  half-way  up  the  southern  cliffs 
of  the  Stockje.  We  clambered  up,  and 
found  that  it  had  been  killed  by  a  most 
uncommon  and  extraordinary  accident. 
It  had  slipped  on  the  upper  rocks,  had 
rolled  over  and  over  down  a  slope  of 
debris  without  being  able  to  regain  its 
feet,  had  fallen  over  a  little  patch  of 
rocks  that  projected  through  the  debris, 
and  had  caught  the  points  of  both  horns 
on  a  tiny  ledge  not  an  inch  broad.  It 
had  just  been  able  to  touch  the  debris 
where  it  led  away  down  from  the  rocks, 
and  had  pawed  and  scratched  until  it 
could  no  longer  touch.  It  had  evident- 
ly been  starved  to  death,  and  we  found 
the  poor  beast  almost  swinging  in  the 
air,  with  its  head  thrown  back  and 
tongue  protruding,  looking  to  the  sky 
as  if  imploring  help. 

We  had  no  such  excitement  as  this  in 
1863,  and  crossed  this  easy  pass  to  the 
chalets  of  Prerayen  in  a  very  leisurely 
fashion.  From  the  summit  to  Prerayen 
let  us  descend  in  one  step.  The  way 
has  been  described  before,  and  those 
who  wish  for  information  about  it  should 
consult  the  description  of  Mr.  Jacomb, 
the  discoverer  of  the  pass.  Nor  need 
we  stop  at  Prerayen,  except  to  remark 


"THE  CHIMNEY." 

<ON  THE  SOUTH-WEST  RIDGE  OF  THE  M  ATTERHORN.) 


Page  64. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  l86o-'69. 


that  the  owner  of  the  chalets  (who  is 
usually  taken  for  a  common  herdsman) 
must  not  be  judged  by  appearances. 
He  is  a  man  of  substance,  he  has  many 
flocks  and  herds ;  and  although,  when 
approached  politely,  he  is  courteous,  he 
can  (and  probably  will)  act  as  the  mas- 
ter of  Prerayen  if  his  position  is  not 
recognized,  and  with  all  the  importance 
of  a  man  who  pays  taxes  to  the  extent 
of  five  hundred  francs  per  annum  to 
his  government. 

The  hill  tops  were  clouded  when  we 
rose  from  our  hay  on  the  5th  of  August. 
We  decided  not  to  continue  the  tour  of 
our  mountain  immediately,  and  return- 
ed over  our  track  of  the  preceding  day 
to  the  highest  chalet  on  the  left  bank  of 
the  valley,  with  the  intention  of  attack- 
ing the  Dent  d'Erin  on  the  next  morn- 
ing. We  were  interested  in  this  sum- 
mit, more  on  account  of  the  excellent 
view  which  it  commanded  of  the  south- 
west ridge  and  the  terminal  peak  of  the 
Matterhorn  than  from  any  other  reason. 

The  Dent  d'Erin  had  not  been  ascend- 
ed at  this  time,  and  we  had  diverged 
from  our  route  on  the  4lh,  and  had 
scrambled  some  distance  up  the  base 
of  Mont  Brule,  to  see  how  far  its  south- 
western slopes  were  assailable.  We 
were  divided  in  opinion  as  to  the  best 
way  of  approaching  the  peak.  Carrel, 
true  to  his  habit  of  sticking  to  rocks  in 
preference  to  ice,  counseled  ascending 
by  the  long  buttress  of  the  Tete  de  Bel- 
la Cia  (which  descends  toward  the  west, 
and  forms  the  southern  boundary  of  the 
last  glacier  that  falls  into  the  Glacier  de 
Zardesan),  and  thence  traversing  the 
heads  of  all  the  tributaries  of  the  Zarde- 
san to  the  western  and  rocky  ridge  of 
the  Dent.  I,  on  the  other  hand,  pro- 
posed to  follow  the  Glacier  de  Zarde- 
san itself  throughout  its  entire  length, 
and  from  the  plateau  at  its  head  (where 
my  proposed  route  would  cross  Carrel's) 
;o  make  directly  toward  the  summit  up 
the  snow-covered  glacier  slope,  instead 
of  by  the  western  ridge.  The  hunch- 
back, who  was  accompanying  us  on 
these  excursions,  declared  in  favor  of 
Carrel's  route,  and  it  was  accordingly 
adopted. 


The  first  part  of  the  programme  was 
successfully  executed ;  and  at  half-past 
ten  A.  M.  on  the  6th  of  August  we  were 
sitting  astride  the  western  ridge,  at  a 
height  of  about  twelve  thousand  five 
hundred  feet,  looking  down  upon  the 
Tiefenmatten  glacier.  To  all  appear- 
ance, another  hour  would  place  us  on 
the  summit,  but  in  another  hour  we 
found  that  we  were  not  destined  to  suc- 
ceed. The  ridge  (like  all  of  the  prin- 
cipal rocky  ridges  of  the  great  peaks 
upon  which  I  have  stood)  had  been 
completely  shattered  by  frost,  and  was 
nothing  more  than  a  heap  of  piled-up 
fragments.  It  was  always  narrow,  and 
where  it  was  narrowest  it  was  also  the 
most  unstable  and  the  most  difficult. 
On  neither  side  could  we  ascend  it  by 
keeping  a  little  below  its  crest  —  on 
the  side  of  the  Tiefenmatten  because  it 
was  too  steep,  and  on  both  sides  be- 
cause the  dislodgment  of  a  single  block 
would  have  disturbed  the  equilibrium 
of  those  which  were  above.  Forced, 
therefore,  to  keep  to  the  very  crest  of 
the  ridge,  and  unable  to  deviate  a  sin- 
gle step  either  to  the  right  or  to  the  left, 
we  were  compelled  to  trust  ourselves 
upon  unsteady  masses,  which  trembled 
under  our  tread,  which  sometimes  set- 
tled down,  grating  in  a  hollow  and 
ominous  manner,  and  which  seemed  as 
if  a  very  little  shake  would  send  the 
whole  roaring  down  in  one  awful  ava- 
lanche. 

I  followed  my  leader,  who  said  not  a 
word,  and  did  not  rebel  until  we  came 
to  a  place  where  a  block  had  to  be  sur- 
mounted which  lay  poised  across  the 
ridge.  Carrel  could  not  climb  it  with- 
out assistance,  or  advance  beyond  it 
until  I  joined  him  above ;  and  as  he 
stepped  off  my  back  on  to  it  I  felt  it 
quiver  and  bear  down  upon  me.  I 
doubted  the  possibility  of  another  man 
standing  upon  it  without  bringing  it 
down.  Then  I  rebelled.  There  was  no 
honor  to  be  gained  by  persevering,  or 
dishonor  in  turning  from  a  place  which 
was  dangerous  on  account  of  its  exces- 
sive difficulty.  So  we  returned  to  Pre- 
rayen, for  there  was  too  little  time  to 
allow  us  to  reascend  by  the  other  route, 


66 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


which  was  subsequently  shown  to  be 
the  right  way  up  the  mountain. 

Four  days  afterward  a  party  of  Eng- 
lishmen (including  my  friends  W.  E. 
Hall,  Crauford  Grove  and  Reginald 
Macdonald)  arrived  in  the  Valpelline, 
and  (unaware  of  our  attempt)  on  the  I2th, 
under  the  skillful  guidance  of  Melchior 
Anderegg,  made  the  first  ascent  of  the 
Dent  d'Erin  by  the  route  which  I  had 
proposed.  This  is  the  only  mountain 
which  I  have  essayed  to  ascend  that  has 
not,  sooner  or  later,  fallen  to  me.  Our 
failure  was  mortifying,  but  I  am  satis- 
fied that  we  did  wisely  in  returning,  and 
that  if  we  h-ad  persevered  by  Carrel's 
route  another  Alpine  accident  would 
have  been  recorded.  I  have  not  heard 
that  another  ascent  has  been  made  of 
the  Dent  d'Erin. 

On  the  7th  of  August  we  crossed  the 
Va  Cornere  pass,  and  had  a  good  look 
at  the  mountain  named  the  Grand  Tour- 
nalin  as  we  descended  the  Val  de  Chi- 
gnana.  This  mountain  was  seen  from 
so  many  points,  and  was  so  much  high- 
er than  any  peak  in  its  immediate  neigh- 
borhood, that  it  was  bound  to  give  a 
very  fine  view ;  and  (as  the  weather 
continued  unfavorable  for  the  Matter- 
horn)  I  arranged  with  Carrel  to  ascend 
it  the  next  day,  and  despatched  him 
direct  to  the  village  of  Val  Tournanche 
to  make  the  necessary  preparations, 
whilst  I,  with  Meynet,  made  a  short  cut 
to  Breuil,  at  the  back  of  Mont  Panque- 
ro,  by  a  little  pass  locally  known  as  the 
Col  de  Fenetre.  I  rejoined  Carrel  the 
same  evening  at  Val  Tournanche,  and 
we  started  from  that  place  at  a  little  be- 
fore five  A.  M.  on  the  8th  to  attack  the 
Tournalin. 

Meynet  was  left  behind  for  that  day, 
and  most  unwillingly  did  the  hunchback 
part  from  us,  and  begged  hard  to  be 
allowed  to  come.  "Pay  me  nothing, 
only  let  me  go  with  you.  I  shall  want 
but  a  little  bread  and  cheese,  and  of 
that  I  won't  eat  much.  I  would  much 
rather  go  with  you  than  carry  things 
down  the  valley."  Such  were  his  argu- 
ments, and  I  was  really  sorry  that  the 
rapidity  of  our  movements  obliged  us 
t-«  desert  the  good  little  man. 


Carrel  led  over  the  meadows  on  the 
south  and  east  of  the  bluff  upon  which 
the  village  of  Val  Tournanche  is  built, 
and  then  by  a  zigzag  path  through  a 
long  and  steep  forest,  making  many 
short  cuts,  which  showed  he  had  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  ground. 
After  we  came  again  into  daylight  our 
route  took  us  up  one  of  those  little, 
concealed  lateral  valleys  which  are  so 
numerous  on  the  slopes  bounding  the 
Val  Tournanche. 

This  valley,  the  Combe  de  Ceneil, 
has  a  general  easterly  trend,  and  con- 
tains but  one  small  cluster  of  houses 
(Ceneil).  The  Tournalin  is  situated  at 
the  head  of  the  combe,  and  nearly  due 
east  of  the  village  of  Val  Tournanche, 
but  from  that  place  no  part  of  the  moun- 
tain is  visible.  After  Ceneil  is  passed 
it  comes  into  view,  rising  above  a  cirque 
of  cliffs  (streaked  by  several  fine  water- 
falls), at  the  end  of  the  combe.  To 
avoid  these  cliffs  the  path  bends  some- 
what to  the  south,  keeping  throughout 
to  the  left  bank  of  the  valley  ;  and  at 
about  thirty-five  hundred  feet  above 
Val  Tournanche,  and  fifteen  hundred 
feet  above  Ceneil,  and  a  mile  or  so  to 
its  east,  arrives  at  the  base  of  some 
moraines,  which  are  remarkably  large, 
considering  the  dimensions  of  the  gla- 
ciers which  formed  them.  The  ranges 
upon  the  western  side  of  the  Val  Tour- 
nanche are  seen  to  great  advantage 
from  this  spot,  but  here  the  path  ends 
and  the  way  steepens. 

When  we  arrived  at  these  moraines 
we  had  a  choice  of  two  routes— one 
continuing  to  the  east  over  the  moraines 
themselves,  the  debris  above  them,  and 
a  large  snow-bed  still  higher  up,  to  a 
kind  of  col  or  depression  to  the  south 
of  the  peak,  from  whence  an  easy  ridge 
led  toward  the  summit ;  the  other,  over 
a  shrunken  glacier  on  our  north-east 
(now,  perhaps,  not  in  existence),  which 
led  to  a  well-marked  col  on  the  north 
of  the  peak,  from  whence  a  less  easy 
ridge  rose  directly  to  the  highest  point. 
We  followed  the  first  named  of  these 
routes,  and  in  a  little  more  than  half  an 
hour  stood  upon  the  col,  which  com- 
manded a  most  glorious  view  of  ^he 


SCKAMIil.liS  AMONGST   THE  A  LI'S  IN  lS6o-'69. 


67 


southern  side  of  Monte  Rosa,  and  of 
the  ranges  to  its  east  and  to  the  east  of 
the  Val  d'Ayas. 

Whilst  we  were  resting  at  this  point  a 
large  party  of  vagrant  chamois  arrived 
on  the  summit  of  the  mountain  from 
the  northern  side,  some  of  whom,  by 
their  statuesque  position,  seemed  to  ap- 
preciate the  grand  panorama  by  which 
they  were  surrounded,  while  others 
amused  themselves,  like  two-legged 
tourists,  in  rolling  stones  over  the  cliffs. 
The  clatter  of  these  falling  fragments 
made  us  look  up.  The  chamois  were 
so  numerous  that  we  could  not  count 
them,  clustered  around  the  summit,  to- 
tally unaware  of  our  presence  ;  and  they 
scattered  in  a  panic,  as  if  a  shell  had 
burst  amongst  them,  when  saluted  by 
the  cries  of  my  excited  comrade,  plung- 
ing wildly  down  in  several  directions, 
with  unfaltering  and  unerring  bounds, 
with  such  speed  and  with  such  grace 
that  we  were  filled  with  admiration  and 
respect  for  their  mountaineering  abilities. 

The  ridge  that  led  from  the  col  to- 
ward the  summit  was  singularly  easy, 
although  well  broken  up  by  frost,  and 
Carrel  thought  that  it  would  not  be 
difficult  to  arrange  a  path  for  mules  out 
of  the  shattered  blocks  ;  but  when  we 
arrived  on  the  summit  we  found  our- 
selves separated  from  the  very  highest 
point  by  a  cleft  which  had  been  con- 
cealed up  to  that  time  :  its  southern  side 
was  nearly  perpendicular,  but  it  was 
only  fourteen  or  fifteen  feet  deep.  Car- 
rel lowered  me  down,  and  afterward 
descended  on  to  the  head  of  my  axe, 
and  subsequently  on  to  my  shoulders, 
with  a  cleverness  which  was  almost  as 
far  removed  from  my  awkwardness  as 
his  own  efforts  were  from  those  of  the 
chamois.  A  few  easy  steps  then  placed 
us  on  the  highest  point.  It  had  not 
been  ascended  before,  and  we  com- 
memorated the  event  by  building  a 
huge  cairn,  which  was  seen  for  many  a 
mile,  and  would  have  lasted  for  many 
a  year  had  it  not  been  thrown  down 
by  the  orders  of  Canon  Carrel,  on  ac- 
count of  its  interrupting  the  sweep  of  a 
camera  which  he  took  to  the  lower  sum- 
mit in  1868  in  order  to  photograph  the 


panorama.  According  to  that  well- 
known  mountaineer,  the  summit  of  the 
Grand  Tournalin  is  6100  feet  above  the 
village  of  Val  Tournanche,  and  11,155 
feet  above 
the  sea.  Its 
ascent  (in- 
eluding 
halts)  occu- 
pied us  only 
four  hours.  ' 

I  recom- 
mend the  as- 
cent of  the 
Tournalin 
to  any  per- 
son who  has 
a  day  to 
spare  in  the 
Val  Tour- 
nanche. It 
should  be 
remember- 
ed, however 
(if  its  ascent 
is  made  for 
the  sake  of 
the  view), 
that  these 
southern 
Pennine 
Alps  sel- 
dom remain 
un  c  louded 
after  mid- 
day, and  in- 
deed frequently  not  later  than  ten  or 
eleven  A.  M.  Toward  sunset  the  equi- 
librium of  the  atmosphere  is  restored, 
and  the  clouds  very  commonly  disap- 
pear. 

I  advise  the  ascent  of  this  mountain, 
not  on  account  of  its  height  or  from  its 
accessibility  or  inacessibility,  but  simply 
for  the  wide  and  splendid  view  which 
may  be  seen  from  its  summit.  Its  posi- 
tion is  superb,  and  the  list  of  the  peaks 
which  can  be  seen  from  it  includes  al- 
most the  whole  of  the  principal  moun- 
tains of  the  Cottian,  Dauphine,  Graian, 
Pennine  and  Oberland  groups.  The  view 
has,  in  the  highest  perfection,  those  ele- 
ments of  picturesqueness  which  are 
wanting  in  the  purely  panoramic  views 


CARKEL    LOWERED    ME    DOWN. 


68 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i&fo-'bg. 


of  higher  summits.  There  are  three 
principal  sections,  each  with  a  central 
or  dominating  point,  to  which  the  eye 
is  naturally  drawn.  All  three  alike  are 
pictures  in  themselves,  yet  all  are  dis- 
similar. In  the  south,  softened  by  the 
vapors  of  the  Val  d'Aoste,  extends  the 
long  line  of  the  Graians,  with  mountain 
after  mountain  twelve  thousand  five 
hundred  feet  and  upward  in  height.  It 
is  not  upon  these,  noble  as  some  of  them 
are,  that  the  eye  will  rest,  but  upon  the 
Viso,  far  off  in  the  background.  In  the 
west  and  toward  the  north  the  range  of 
Mont  Blanc  and  some  of  the  greatest 
of  the  Central  Pennine  Alps  (includ- 
ing the  Grand  Combin  and  the  Dent 
Blanche)  form  the  background,  but 
they  are  overpowered  by  the  grandeur 
of  the  ridges  which  culminate  in  the 
Matterhorn.  Nor  in  the  east  and  north, 
where  pleasant  grassy  slopes  lead  down- 
ward to  the  Val  d'Ayas,  nor  upon  the 
glaciers  and  snow-fields  above  them, 
nor  upon  the  Oberland  in  the  back- 
ground, will  the  eye  long  linger,  when 
immediately  in  front,  several  miles  away, 
but  seeming  close  at  hand,  thrown  out 
by  the  pure  azure  sky,  there  are  the  glit- 
tering crests  of  Monte  Rosa. 

Those  who  would,  but  cannot,  stand 
upon  the  highest  Alps  may  console 
themselves  with  the  knowledge  that 
they  do  not  usually  yield  the  views  that 
make  the  strongest  and  most  perma- 
nent impressions.  Marvelous  some  of 
the  panoramas  seen  from  the  greatest 
peaks  undoubtedly  are,  but  they  are 
necessarily  without  those  isolated  and 
central  points  which  are  so  valuable 
pictorially.  The  eye  roams  over  a  mul- 
titude of  objects  (each  perhaps  grand 
individually),  and,  distracted  by  an 
embarrassment  of  riches,  wanders  from 
one  to  another,  erasing  by  the  contem- 
plation of  the  next  the  effect  that  was 
produced  by  the  last ;  and  when  those 
happy  moments  are  over,  which  always 
fly  with  too  great  rapidity,  the  summit 
is  left  with  an  impression  that  is  seldom 
durable  because  it  is  usually  vague. 

No  views  create  such  lasting  impres- 
sions as  those  which  are  seen  but  for  a 
moment  when  a  veil  of  mist  is  rent  in 


twain  and  a  single  spire  or  dome  is  dis- 
closed. The  peaks  which  are  seen  at 
these  moments  are  not  perhaps  the 
greatest  or  the  noblest,  but  the  recollec- 
tion of  them  outlives  the  memory  of  any 
panoramic  view,  because  the  picture, 
photographed  by  the  eye,  has  time  to 
dry,  instead  of  being  blurred  while  yet 
wet  by  contact  with  other  impressions. 
The  reverse  is  the  case  with  the  bird's- 
eye  panoramic  views  from  the  great 
peaks,  which  sometimes  embrace  a  hun- 
dred miles  in  nearly  every  direction. 
The  eye  is  confounded  by  the  crowd  of 
details,  and  unable  to  distinguish  the 
relative  importance  of  the  objects  which 
are  seen.  It  is  almost  as  difficult  to 
form  a  just  estimate  (with  the  eye)  of 
the  respective  heights  of  a  number  of 
peaks  from  a  very  high  summit  as  it  is 
from  the  bottom  of  a  valley.  I  think 
that  the  grandest  and  most  satisfactory 
stand-points  for  viewing  mountain  sce- 
nery are  those  which  are  sufficiently  ele- 
vated to  give  a  feeling  of  depth  as  well 
as  of  height — which  are  lofty  enough  to 
exhibit  wide  and  varied  views,  but  not 
so  high  as  to  sink  everything  to  the  level 
of  the  spectator.  The  view  from  the 
Grand  Tournalin  is  a  favorable  example 
of  this  class  of  panoramic  views. 

We  descended  from  the  summit  by 
the  northern  route,  and  found  it  tolerably 
stiff  clambering  as  far  as  the  col,  but 
thence,  down  the  glacier,  the  way  was 
straightforward,  and  we  joined  the  route 
taken  on  the  ascent  at  the  foot  of  the 
ridge  leading  toward  the  east.  In  the 
evening  we  returned  to  Breuil. 

There  is  an  abrupt  rise  in  the  valley 
about  two  miles  to  the  north  of  the  vil- 
lage of  Val  Tournanche,  and  just  above 
this  step  the  torrent  has  eaten  its  way 
into  its  bed  and  formed  an  extraordi- 
nary chasm,  which  has  long  been  known 
by  the  name  Gouffre  des  Busserailles. 
We  lingered  about  this  spot  to  listen  to 
the  thunder  of  the  concealed  water,  and 
to  watch  its  tumultuous  boiling  as  it 
issued  from  the  gloomy  cleft,  but  our 
efforts  to  peer  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
place  were  baffled.  In  November,  1865, 
the  intrepid  Carrel  induced  two  trusty 
comrades  —  the  Maquignazes  of  Val 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  l86o-'69. 


69 


Tournanche — to  lower  him  by  a  rope  I 
into  the  chasm  and  over  the  cataract. 
The  feat  required  iron  nerves  and  mus- 
cles and  sinews  of  no  ordinary  kind, 
and  its  performance  alone  stamps  Car- 
rel as  a  man  of  dauntless  courage.  One 
of  the  Maquignazes  subsequently  de- 
scended in  the  same  way,  and  these  two 
men  were  so  astonished  at  what  they 
saw  that  they  forthwith  set  to  work  with 
hammer  and  chisel  to  make  a  way  into 
this  romantic  gulf.  In  a  few  days  they 
constructed  a  rough  but  convenient 
plank  gallery  into  the  centre  of  the 
goiiffre,  along  its  walls,  and  on  pay- 
ment of  a  toll  of  half  a  franc  any  one 
can  now  enter  the  Gouffre  des  Bus- 
serailles. 

I  cannot,  without  a  couple  of  sections 
and  a  plan,  give  an  exact  idea  to  the 
reader  of  this  remarkable  place.  It 
corresponds  in  some  of  its  features  to 
the  gorge  figured  upon  page  62,  but  it 
exhibits  in  a  much  more  notable  man- 
ner the  characteristic  action  and  power 
of  running  water.  The  length  of  the 
chasm  or  gouffre  is  about  three  hundred 
and  twenty  feet,  and  from  the  top  of  its 
walls  to  the  surface  of  the  water  is  about 
one  hundred  and  ten  feet.  At  no  part 
can  the  entire  length  or  depth  be  seen 
at  a  glance,  for,  although  the  width  at 
some  places  is  fifteen  feet  or  more,  the 
view  is  limited  by  the  sinuosities  of  the 
walls.  These  are  everywhere  polished 
to  a  smooth,  vitreous  -  in  -  appearance 
surface.  In  some  places  the  torrent  has 
wormed  into  the  rock,  and  has  left  nat- 
ural bridges.  The  most  extraordinary 
features  of  the  Gouffre  des  Busserailles, 
however,  are  the  caverns  (or  marmites, 
as  they  are  termed)  which  the  water  has 
hollowed  out  of  the  heart  of  the  rock. 
Carrel's  plank  path  leads  into  one  of 
the  greatest  —  a  grotto  that  is  about 
twenty-eight  feet  across  at  its  largest 
diameter,  and  fifteen  or  sixteen  feet 
high,  roofed  above  by  the  living  rock, 
and  with  the  torrent  roaring  fifty  feet  or 
thereabouts  below,  at  the  bottom  of  a 
fissure.  This  cavern  is  lighted  by  can- 
dles, and  talking  in  it  can  only  be  man- 
aged by  signs. 

I  visited  the  interior  of  the  goiiffre  in 


1869,  and  my  wonder  at  its  caverns  was 
increased  by  observing  the  hardness  of 
the  hornblende  out  of  which  they  have 
been  hollowed.  Carrel  chiseled  off  a 
large  piece,  which  is  now  lying  before 
me.  It  has  a  highly  polished,  glassy 
surface,  and  might  be  mistaken,  for  a 
moment,  for  ice-polished  rock.  But  the 
water  has  found  out  the  atoms  which 
were  least  hard,  and  it  is  dotted  all  over 
with  minute  depressions,  much  as  the 
face  of  one  is  who  has  suffered  from 
smallpox.  The  edges  of  these  little 
hollows  are  rounded,  and  all  the  sur- 
faces of  the  depressions  are  polished 
nearly  or  quite  as  highly  as  the  general 
surface  of  the  fragment.  The  water 
has  drilled  more  deeply  into  some  veins 
of  steatite  than  in  other  places,  and  the 
presence  of  the  steatite  may  possibly 
have  had  something  to  do  with  the  form- 
ation of  the  gouffre. 

I  arrived  at  Breuil  again  after  an  ab- 
sence of  six  days,  well  satisfied  with 
my  tour  of  the  Matterhorn,  which  had 
been  rendered  very  pleasant  by  the  will- 
ingness of  my  guides  and  by  the  kind- 
liness of  the  natives.  But  it  must  be 
admitted  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  Val 
Tournanche  are  behind  the  times.  Their 
paths  are  as  bad  as,  or  worse  than,  they 
were  in  the  time  of  De  Saussure,  and 
their  inns  are  much  inferior  to  those  on 
the  Swiss  side.  If  it  were  otherwise 
there  would  be  nothing  to  prevent  the 
valley  becoming  one  of  the  most  popu- 
lar and  frequented  of  all  the  valleys  in 
the  Alps  ;  but  as  it  is,  tourists  who  enter 
it  seem  to  think  only  about  how  soon 
they  can  get  out  of  it,  and  hence  it  is 
much  less  known  than  it  deserves  to  be 
on  account  of  its  natural  attractions. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

OUR   SIXTH   ATTEMPT   TO   ASCEND   THE 
MATTERHORN. 

CARREL  had  carte  blanche  in  the 
matter  of  guides,  and  his  choice  fell 
upon  his  relative  Caesar,  Luc  Meynet 
and  two  others  whose  names  I  do  not 
know.  These  men  were  now  brought 
together,  and  our  preparations  were 


7° 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


completed,  as  the  weather  was  clearing 
up. 

We  rested  on  Sunday,  August  9, 
eagerly  watching  the  lessening  of  the 
mists  around  the  great  peak,  and  start- 
ed just  before  dawn  upon  the  loth,  on 
a  still  and  cloudless  morning,  which 
seemed  to  promise  a  happy  termination 
to  our  enterprise.  . 

By  going  always,  but  gently,  we  ar- 
rived   upon    the    Col   du    Lion    before 
nine  o'clock.     Changes  were  apparent. 
Familiar  ledges  had  vanished  ;  the  plat- 
form whereon  my  tent  had  stood  looked 
very  forlorn  ;  its  stones  had  been  scat- 
tered by  wind  and  frost,  and  had  half 
disappeared ;    and    the    summit  of  the 
col   itself,   which   in    1862   had   always 
been  respectably  broad  and  covered  by 
snow,  was  now  sharper  than  the  ridge 
of  any  church  roof,  and  was  hard  ice. 
Already    we   had   found   that   the   bad 
weather  of  the  past  week  had  done  its 
work.     The  rocks  for  several  hundred 
feet  below  the  col  were  varnished  with 
ice.     Loose,   incoherent   snow  covered 
the  older  and  harder  beds  below,  and 
we  nearly  lost  our  leader  through  its 
treacherousness.     He  stepped  on  some 
snow  which  seemed  firm,  and  raised  his 
axe  to  deliver  a  swinging  blow,  but  just 
as  it  was  highest  the  crust  of  the  slope 
upon  which  he  stood  broke  away,  and 
poured    down    in    serpentine    streams, 
leaving  long  bare  strips,  which  glitter- 
ed in  the  sun,  for  they  were  glassy  ice. 
Carrel,  with  admirable  readiness,  flung 
himself  back  on  to  the  rock  off  which 
he  had   stepped,   and  was  at  once  se- 
cured.     He    simply   remarked,    "It   is 
time  we  were  tied  up,"   and  after  we 
had  been  tied  up  he  went  to  work  again 
as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

We  had  abundant  illustrations  during 
the  next  two  hours  of  the  value  of  a 
rope  to  climbers.  We  were  tied  up 
rather  widely  apart,  and  advanced  gen- 
erally in  pairs.  Carrel,  who  led,  was 
followed  closely  by  another  man,  who 
lent  him  a  shoulder  or  placed  an  axe- 
head  under  his  feet  when  there  was 
need  ;  and  when  this  couple  were  well 
placed,  the  second  pair  advanced  in 
'similar  fashion,  the  rope  being  drawn 


in  by  those  above  and  paid  out  gradual- 
ly by  those  below.  The  leading  men 
advanced,  or  the  third  pair,  and  so  on. 
This  manner  of  progression  was  slow 
but  sure.  One  man  only  moved  at  a 
time,  and  if  he  slipped  (and  we  fre- 
quently did  slip),  he  could  slide  scarce- 
ly a  foot  without  being  checked  by  the 
others.  The  certainty  and  safety  of  the 
method  gave  confidence  to  the  one  who 
was  moving,  and  not  only  nerved  him 
to  put  out  his  powers  to  the  utmost,  but 
sustained  nerve  in  really  difficult  situa- 
tions. For  these  rocks  (which,  it  has 
been  already  said,  were  easy  enough 
under  ordinary  circumstances)  were 
now  difficult  in  a  high  degree.  The 
snow-water,  which  had  trickled  down 
for  many  days  past  in  little  streams, 
had  taken,  naturally,  the  very  route  by 
which  we  wished  to  ascend  ;  and,  re- 
frozen  in  the  night,  had  glazed  the  slabs 
over  which  we  had  to  pass — sometimes 
with  a  fine  film  of  ice  as  thin  as  a  sheet 
of  paper,  and  sometimes  so  thickly  that 
we  could  almost  cut  footsteps  in  it.  The 
weather  was  superb,  the  men  made  light 
of  the  toil,  and  shouted  to  rouse  the 
echoes  from  the  Dent  d'Herens. 

We  went  on  gayly,  passed  the  sec- 
ond tent -platform,  the  Chimney  and 
the  other  well-remembered  points,  and 
reckoned  confidently  on  sleeping  that 
night  upon  the  top  of  "the  shoulder;" 
but  before  we  had  well  arrived  at  the 
foot  of  the  Great  Tower,  a  sudden  rush 
of  cold  air  warned  us  to  look  out. 

It  was  difficult  to  say  where  this  air 
came  from  :  it  did  not  blow  as  a  wind, 
but  descended  rather  as  the  water  in  a 
shower-bath.  All  was  tranquil  again  : 
the  atmosphere  showed  no  signs  of  dis- 
turbance :  there  was  a  dead  calm,  and 
not  a  speck  of  cloud  to  be  seen  any- 
where. But  we  did  not  remain  very 
long  in  this  state.  The  cold  air  came 
again,  and  this  time  it  was  difficult  to 
say  where  it  did  not  come  from.  We 
jammed  down  our  hats  as  it  beat  against 
the  ridge  and  screamed  amongst  the 
crags.  Before  we  had  got  to  the  foot 
of  the  Tower  mists  had  been  formed 
above  and  below.  They  appeared  at 
first  in  small,  isolated  patches  (in  sev- 


UI17BRSIT7 


THE  "GREAT  TOWER." 


'CRETE  DU    COQ." 


THE  CHACS  OF  THE  MATTERHORN,  DURING  THE  STORM,  MIDNIGHT,  AUGUST  10,  1863, 


Page  71. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


eral  places  at  the  same  time),  which 
danced  and  jerked  and  were  torn  into 
shreds  by  the  wind,  but  grew  larger 
under  the  process.  They  were  united 
together  and  rent  again,  showing  us  the 
blue  sky  for  a  moment,  and  blotting  it 
out  the  next,  and  augmented  incessant- 
ly until  the  whole  heavens  were  filled 
with  whirling,  boiling  clouds.  Before 
we  could  take  off  our  packs  and  get 
under  any  kind  of  shelter  a  hurricane 
of  snow  burst  upon  us  from  the  east.  It 
fell  so  thickly  that  in  a  few  minutes  the 
ridge  was  covered  by  it.  "What  shall 
we  do?"  I  shouted  to  Carrel.  "Mon- 
sieur," said  he,  "the  wind  is  bad,  the 
weather  has  changed,  we  are  heavily 
laden.  Here  is  a  fine  gite  :  let  us  stop. 
If  we  go  on  we  shall  be  half  frozen. 
That  is  my  opinion."  No  one  differed 
from  him  ;  so  we  fell  to  work  to  make 
a  place  for  the  tent,  and  in  a  couple  of 
hours  completed  the  platform  which  we 
had  commenced  in  1862.  The  clouds 
had  blackened  during  that  time,  and 
we  had  hardly  finished  our  task  before 
a  thunder-storm  broke  upon  us  with 
appalling  fury.  Forked  lightning  shot 
out  at  the  turrets  above  and  at  the  crags 
below.  It  was  so  close  that  we  quailed 
at  its  darts.  It  seemed  to  scorch  us  : 
we  were  in  the  very  focus  of  the  storm. 
The  thunder  was  simultaneous  with  the 
flashes,  short  and  sharp,  and  more  like 
the  noise  of  a  door  violently  slammed, 
multiplied  a  thousand-fold,  than  any 
noise  to  which  I  can  compare  it. 

When  I  say  that  the  thunder  was  sim- 
ultaneous with  the  lightning,  I  speak  as 
an  inexact  person.  My  meaning  is, 
that  the  time  which  elapsed  between 
seeing  the  flash  and  hearing  the  report 
was  inappreciable  to  me.  I  wish  to 
speak  with  all  possible  precision,  and 
there  are  two  points  in  regard  to  this 
storm  upon  which  I  can  speak  with 
some  accuracy.  The  first  is  in  regard 
to  the  distance  of  the  lightning  from  our 
party.  We  might  have  been  eleven 
hundred  feet  from  it  if  a  second  of  time 
had  elapsed  between  seeing  the  flashes 
and  hearing  the  reports ;  and  a  second 
of  time  is  not  appreciated  by  inexact 
persons.  It  was  certain  that  we  were 


sometimes  less  than  that  distance  from 
the  lightning,  because  I  saw  it  pass  in 
front  of  well-known  points  on  the  ridge, 
both  above  and  below  us,  which  were 
less  (sometimes  considerably  less)  than 
a  thousand  feet  distant. 

Secondly,  in  regard  to  the  difficulty 
of  distinguishing  sounds  which  are 
merely  echoes  from  true  thunder  or  the 
noise  which  occurs  simultaneously  with 
lightning.  Arago  entered  into  this  sub- 
ject at  some  length  in  his  Meteorological 
Essays,  and  seemed  to  doubt  if  it  would 
ever  be  possible  to  determine  whether 
echoes  are  always  the  cause  of  the  roll- 
ing sounds  commonly  called  thunder. 
I  shall  not  attempt  to  show  whether  the 
rolling  sounds  should  ever  or  never  be 
regarded  as  true  thunder,  but  only  that 
during  this  storm  upon  the  Matterhorn 
it  was  possible  to  distinguish  the  sound 
of  the  thunder  itself  from  the  sounds 
(rolling  and  otherwise)  which  were 
merely  the  echoes  of  the  first,  original 
sound. 

At  the  place  where  we  were  camped 
a  remarkable  echo  could  be  heard  (one 
so  remarkable  that  if  it  could  be  heard 
in  this  country  it  would  draw  crowds  for 
its  own  sake)  :  I  believe  it  came  from 
the  cliffs  of  the  Dent  d'Herens.  It  was 
a  favorite  amusement  with  us  to  rouse 
this  echo,  which  repeated  any  sharp  cry 
in  a  very  distinct  manner  several  times, 
after  the  lapse  of  something  like  a  dozen 
seconds.  The  thunderstorm  lasted  near- 
ly two  hours,  and  raged  at  times  with 
great  fury ;  and  the  prolonged  rollings 
from  the  surrounding  mountains  after 
one  flash  had  not  usually  ceased  before 
another  set  of  echoes  took  up  the  dis- 
course, and  maintained  the  reverbera- 
tions without  a  break.  Occasionally 
there  was  a  pause,  interrupted  present- 
ly by  a  single  clap,  the  accompaniment 
of  a  single  discharge,  and  after  such 
times  I  could  recognize  the  echoes  from 
the  Dent  d'Herens  by  their  peculiar 
repetitions,  and  by  the  length  of  time 
which  had  passed  since  the  reports  had 
occurred  of  which  they  were  the  echoes. 

If  I  had  been  unaware  of  the  existence 
of  this  echo,  I  should  have  supposed  that 
the  resounds  were  original  reports  of 


72 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 


explosions  which  had  been  unnoticed, 
since  in  intensity  they  were  scarcely 
distinguishable  from  the  true  thunder, 
which  during  this  storm  seemed  to  me, 
upon  every  occasion,  to  consist  of  a 
single  harsh,  instantaneous  sound.* 

Or  if,  instead  of  being  placed  at  a 
distance  of  less  than  a  thousand  feet 
from  the  points  of  explosion  (and  con- 
sequently hearing  the  report  almost  in 
the  same  moment  as  we  saw  the  flash, 
am  the  rollings  after  a  considerable  in- 
terval of  time),  we  had  been  placed  so 
that  the  original  report  had  fallen  on 
our  ears  nearly  at  the  same  moment  as 
the  echoes,  we  should  probably  have 
considered  that  the  successive  reports 
and  rollings  of  the  echoes  were  reports 
of  successive  explosions  occurring  near- 
ly at  the  same  moment,  and  that  they 
were  not  echoes  at  all. 

This  is  the  only  time  (out  of  many 
?torms  witnessed  in  the  Alps)  I  have 
obtained  evidence  that  the  rollings  of 
thunder  are  actually  echoes,  and  that 
they  are  not,  necessarily,  the  reports  of 
a  number  of  discharges  over  a  long  line, 
occurring  at  varying  distances  from  the 
spectator,  and  consequently  unable  to 
arrive  at  his  ear  at  the  same  moment, 
although  they  follow  each  other  so  swift- 
ly as  to  produce  a  sound  more  or  less 
continuous.! 

*  The  same  has  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  case  at  all 
times  when  I  have  been  close  to  the  points  of  explo- 
sion. There  has  been  always  a  distinct  interval  be- 
tween the  first  explosion  and  the  rolling  sounds  and 
secondary  explosions  which  I  have  believed  to  be 
merely  echoes ;  but  it  has  never  been  possible  (except 
in  the  above-mentioned  case)  to  identify  them  as  such. 

Others  have  observed  the  same.  "  The  geologist, 
Professor  Theobald,  of  Chur,  who  was  in  the  Solfe- 
rino  storm,  between  the  Tschiertscher  and  Urden  Alp, 
in  the  electric  clouds,  says  that  the  peals  were  short, 
like  cannon-shots,  but  of  a  clearer,  more  cracking 
tone,  and  that  the  rolling  of  the  thunder  was  only  heard 
farther  on." — Berlepsch's  Alps,  English  ed.,  p.  133. 

f  Mr.  J.  Glaisher  has  frequently  pointed  out  that 
all  sounds  in  balloons  at  some  distance  from  the  earth 
are  notable  for  their  brevity.  "  It  is  one  sound  only  : 
there  is  no  reverberation,  no  reflection;  and  this  is 
characteristic  of  all  sounds  in  the  balloon — one  clear 
sound,  continuing  during  its  own  vibrations,  then 
gone  in  a  moment." — Good  Words,  1863,  p.  224. 

I  learn  from  Mr.  Glaisher  that  the  thunder-claps 
which  have  been  heard  by  him  during  his  "  travels  in 
the  air  "  have  been  no  exception  to  the  general  rule, 
and  the  absence  of  rolling  has  fortified  his  belief  that 
the  rolling  sounds  which  accompany  thunder  are 
echoes,  and  echoes  only. 


The  wind  during  all  this  time  seemed 
to  blow  tolerably  consistently  from  the 
east.  It  smote  the  tent  so  vehemently 
(notwithstanding  it  was  partly  protected 
by  rocks)  that  we  had  grave  fears  our 
refuge  might  be  blown  away  bodily, 
with  ourselves  inside ;  so,  during  some 
of  the  lulls,  we  issued  out  and  built  a 
wall  to  windward.  At  half-past  three 
the  wind  changed  to  the  north-west, 
and  the  clouds  vanished.  We  immedi- 
ately took  the  opportunity  to  send  down 
one  of  the  porters  (under  protection  of 
some  of  the  others  a  little  beyond  the 
Col  du  Lion),  as  the  tent  would  accom- 
modate only  five  persons.  From  this 
time  to  sunset  the  weather  was  variable. 
It  was  sometimes  blowing  and  snowing 
hard,  and  sometimes  a  dead  calm.  The 
bad  weather  was  evidently  confined  to 
the  Mont  Cervin,  for  when  the  clouds 
lifted  we  could  see  everything  that 
could  be  seen  from  our  gite.  Monte 
Viso,  a  hundred  miles  off,  was  clear, 
and  the  sun  set  gorgeously  behind  the 
range  of  Mont  Blanc.  We  passed  the 
night  comfortably,  even  luxuriously,  in 
our  blanket-bags,  but  there  was  little 
chance  of  sleeping,  between  the  noise 
of  the  wind,  of  the  thunder  and  of  the 
falling  rocks.  I  forgave  the  thunder 
for  the  sake  of  the  lightning.  A  more 
splendid  spectacle  than  its  illumination 
of  the  Matterhorn  crags  I  do  not  expect 
to  see. 

We  turned  out  at  3.30  A.  M.  on  the 
nth,  and  were  dismayed  to  find  that  it 
still  continued  to  snow.  At  9  A.  M.  the 
snow  ceased  to  fall,  and  the  sun  showed 
itself  feebly,  so  we  packed  up  our  bag- 
gage and  set  out  to  try  to  get  upon  "the 
shoulder."  We  struggled  upward  until 
eleven  o'clock,  and  then  it  commenced 
to  snow  again.  We  held  a  council :  the 
opinions  expressed  at  it  were  unanimous 
against  advancing,  and  I  decided  to  re- 
treat ;  for  we  had  risen  less  than  three 
hundred  feet  in  the  past  two  hours,  and 
had  not  even  arrived  at  the  rope  which 
Tyndall's  party  left  behind  attached  to 
the  rocks,  in  1862.  At  the  same  rate 
of  progression  it  would  have  taken  us 
from  four  to  five  hours  to  get  upon  "the 
shoulder."  Not  one  of  us  cared  to  at- 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


73 


tempt  to  do  so  under  the  existing  cir- 
cumstances ;  for,  besides  having  to 
move  our  own  weight,  which  was  suf- 
ficiently troublesome  at  this  part  of  the 
ridge,  we  had  to  transport  much  heavy 
baggage,  tent,  blankets,  provisions,  lad- 
der and  four  hundred  and  fifty  feet  of 
rope,  besides  many  other  smaller  mat- 
ters. These,  however,  were  not  the 
most  serious  considerations.  Supposing 
that  we  got  upon  "the  shoulder,"  we 
might  find  ourselves  detained  there  sev- 
eral days,  unable  either  to  go  up  or 
down.*  I  could  not  risk  any  such  de- 
tention, being  under  obligations  to  ap- 
pear in  London  at  the  end  of  the  week. 
We  got  to  Breuil  in  the  course  of  the 
afternoon  :  it  was  quite  fine  there,  and 
the  tenants  of  the  inn  received  our  state- 
ments with  evident  skepticism.  They 


MONSIEUR   FAVRE. 

were  astonished  to  learn  that  we  had 
been  exposed  to  a  snow-storm  of  twen- 
ty-six hours'  duration.  "Why,"  said 
Favre,  the  innkeeper,  "we  have  had  no 
snow  :  it  has  been  fine  all  the  time  you 
have  been  absent,  and  there  has  been 
only  that  small  cloud  upon  the  moun- 
tain." Ah!  that  small  cloud!  None 
except  those  who  have  had  experience 
of  it  can  tell  what  a  formidable  obstacle 
it  is. 

Why  is  it  that  the  Matterhorn  is  sub- 
ject to  these  abominable  variations  of 
weather?  The  ready  answer  is,  "Oh, 
the  mountain  is  so  isolated,  it  attracts 

*  Since  then  (on  at  least  one  occasion)  several  per- 
sons have  found  themselves  in  this  predicament  for 
five  or  six  consecutive  days. 


the  clouds."  This  is  not  a  sufficient 
answer.  Although  the  mountain  is  iso- 
lated, it  is  not  so  much  more  isolated 
than  the  neighboring  peaks  that  it  should 
gather  clouds  when  none  of  the  others 
do  so.  It  will  not  at  all  account  for  the 
cloud  to  which  I  refer,  which  is  not 
formed  by  an  aggregation  of  smaller, 
stray  clouds  drawn  together  from  a  dis- 
tance (as  scum  collects  round  a  log  in 
the  water),  but  is  created  against  tiie 
mountain  itself,  and  springs  into  exist- 
ence where  no  clouds  were  seen  before. 
It  is  formed  and  hangs  chiefly  against 
the  southern  sides,  and  particularly 
against  the  south-eastern  side.  It  fre- 
quently does  not  envelop  the  summit, 
and  rarely  extends  down  to  the  Glacier 
du  Lion  and  to  the  Glacier  du  Mont  Cer- 
vin  below.  It  forms  in  the  finest  weath- 
er— on  cloudless  and  windless  days. 

I  conceive  that  we  should  look  to  dif- 
ferences of  temperature  rather  than  to 
the  height  or  isolation  of  the  mountain 
for  an  explanation.  I  am  inclined  to 
attribute  the  disturbances  which  occur 
in  the  atmosphere  of  the  southern  sides 
of  the  Matterhorn  on  fine  days  princi- 
pally to  the  fact  that  the  mountain  is  a 
rock  mountain — that  it  receives  a  great 
amount  of  heat,  and  is  not  only  warmer 
itself,  but  isv  surrounded  by  an  atmo- 
sphere of  a  higher  temperature,  than 
such  peaks  as  the  Weisshorn  and  the 
Lyskamm,  which  are  eminently  snow 
mountains. 

In  certain  states  of  the  atmosphere 
its  temperature  may  be  tolerably  uni- 
form over  wide  areas  and  to  great  ele- 
vations. I  have  known  the  thermometer 
to  show  seventy  degrees  in  the  shade  at 
the  top  of  an  Alpine  peak  more  than 
thirteen  thousand  feet  high,  and  but  a 
very  few  degrees  higher  six  or  seven 
thousand  feet  lower.  At  other  times 
there  will  be  a  difference  of  forty  or  fifty 
degrees  (Fahrenheit)  between  two  sta- 
tions, the  higher  not  more  than  six  or 
seven  thousand  feet  above  the  lower. 

Provided  that  the  temperature  was 
uniform,  or  nearly  so,  on  all  sides  of 
the  Matterhorn,  and  to  a  considerable 
distance  above  its  summit,  no  clouds 
would  be  likely  to  form  upon  it.  But  if 


74 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


the  atmosphere  immediately  surround- 
ing it  is  warmer  than  the  contiguous 
strata,  a  local  "courant  ascendant" 
must  necessarily  be  generated ;  and 
portions  of  the  cooler  superincumbent 
(or  circumjacent)  air  will  naturally  be 
attracted  toward  the  mountain,  where 
they  will  speedily  condense  the  moist- 
ure of  the  warm  air  in  contact  with  it. 
I  cannot  explain  the  down-rushes  of 
cold  air  which  occur  on  it  when  all  the 
rest  of  the  neighborhood  appears  to  be 
tranquil,  in  any  other  way.  The  clouds 
are  produced  by  the  contact  of  two 
strata  of  air  (of  widely  different  tempe- 
ratures) charged  with  invisible  moist-ure, 
as  surely  as  certain  colorless  fluids  pro- 
duce a  white,  turbid  liquid  when  mixed 
together.  The  order  has  been,  wind  of 
a  low  temperature,  mist,  rain,  snow  or 
hail. 

This  opinion  is  borne  out  to  some  ex- 
tent by  the  behavior  of  the  neighboring 
mountains.  The  Dom  (14,935  feet)  and 
the  Dent  Blanche  (14,318)  have  both  of 
them  large  cliffs  of  bare  rock  upon  their 


southern  sides,  and  against  those  cliffs 
clouds  commonly  form  (during  fine, 
still  weather)  at  the  same  time  as  the 
cloud  on  the  Matterhorn  ;  whilst  the 
Weisshorn  (14,804)  and  the  Lyskamm 
(14,889) — mountains  of  about.the  same 
altitude,  and  which  are  in  correspond- 
ing situations  to  the  former  pair — usual- 
ly remain  perfectly  clear. 

I  arrived  at  Chatillon  at  midnight  on 
the  nth,  defeated  and  disconsolate,  but, 
like  a  gambler  who  loses  each  throw, 
only  the  more  eager  to  have  another 
try,  to  see  if  the  luck  would  change  ; 
ami  returned  to  London  ready  to  de- 
vise fresh  combinations  and  to  form 
new  plans. 


CROSSING   THE    CHANNF.t-. 


A  NIGHT  WITH  CROZ.     (See  page  90.) 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

I-ROM  ST.  MICHEL  ON  TIIK  MONT  CKNIS  ROAD, 
BY  THE  COL  DES  AIGUILLES  D'ARVE,  Oil, 
DE  MARTIGNARE  AND  THE  BRECHE  DE  LA 
MEIJE,  TO  LA  BERARDE. 

WHEN  we  arrived  upon  the  highest 
summit  of  Mont  Pelvoux,  in  Dau- 
phine,  in  1861,  we  saw,  to  our  surprise 


and  disappointment,  that  it  was  not  the 
culminating  point  of  the  district,  and  that 
another  mountain,  distant  about  a  cou- 
ple of  miles,  and  separated  from  us  by 
an  impassable  gulf,  claimed  that  dis- 
tinction. I  was  troubled  in  spirit  about 
this  mountain,  and  my  thoughts  often 
reverted  to  the  great  wall-sided  peak, 

75 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  iS6o-'69. 


second  in  apparent  inaccessibility  only 
to  the  Matterhorn.  It  had,  moreover, 
another  claim  to  attention — it  was  the 
highest  mountain  in  France. 

The  year  1862  passed  away  without  a 
chance  of  getting  to  it,  and  my  holiday 
was  too  brief  in  1863  even  to  think  about 
it ;  but  in  the  following  year  it  was  pos- 
sible, and  I  resolved  to  set  my  mind  at 
rest  by  completing  the  task  which  had 
been  left  unfinished  in  1861.  . 

In  the  mean  time,  others  had  turned 
their  attention  to  Dauphine.  First  of 


MICHT.L-AUCrST    CKOX  (1865). 

all  (in  1862)  came  Mr.  F.  Tuckett— that 
mighty  mountaineer,  whose  name  is 
known  throughout  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  Alps  —  with  the  guides  Michel 
Croz,  Peter  Perrn  and  Bartolommeo  Pey- 
rotte,  and  great  success  attended  his 
arms.  But  Mr.  Tuckett  halted  before 
the  Pointe  des  Ecrins,  and,  dismayed  by 
its  appearance,  withdrew  his  forces  to 
gather  less  dangerous  laurels  elsewhere. 
His  expedition,  however,  threw  some 
light  upon  the  Ecrins.  He  pointed  out 
the  direction  from  which  an  attack  was 
most  likely  to  be  successful,  and  Mr. 


William  Mathews  and  the  Rev.  T.  G. 
Bonney  (to  whom  he  communicated  the 
result  of  his  labors)  attempted  to  execute 
the  ascent,  with  the  brothers  Michel  and 
J.  B.  Croz,  by  following  his  indications, 
but  they  too  were  defeated. 

The  guide  Michel  Croz  had  thus  been 
engaged  in  both  of  these  expeditions  in 
Dauphine,  and  I  naturally  looked  to  him 
for  assistance.  Mr.  Mathews  (to  whom 
I  applied  for  information)  gave  him  a 
high  character,  and  concluded  his  reply 
to  me  by  saying  "he  was  only  happy 
when  upward  of  ten  thousand  feet 
high." 

I  know  what  my  friend  meant.  Croz 
was  happiest  when  he  was  employing 
his  powers  to  the  utmost.  Places  where 
you  and  I  would  "toil  and  sweat,  and 
yet  be  freezing  cold,"  were  bagatelles 
to  him,  and  it  was  only  when  he  got 
above  the  range  of  ordinary  mortals, 
and  was  required  to  employ  his  mag- 
nificent strength  and  to  draw  upon 
his  unsurpassed  knowledge  of  ice  and 
snow,  that  he  could  be  said  to  be  really 
and  truly  happy. 

Of  all  the  guides  with  whom  I  trav- 
eled,  Michel  Croz  was  the  man  who 
was  most  after  my  own  heart.     He  did 
not  work  like  a  blunt  razor  and  take 
to  his  toil  unkindly.     He  did  not  need 
'  urging  or  to  be  told  a  second  time  to  do 
anything.    You  had  but  to  say  what  was 
to  be  done  and  how  it  was  to  be  done, 
and  the  work  was  done  if  it  was  pos- 
sible.    Such  men  are  not  common,  and 
when  they  are  known  they  are  valued. 
Michel    was    not   widely   known,    but 
those  who  did  know  him  came  again 
and  again.     The  inscription  placed  upon 
his  tomb  truthfully  records  that  he  was 
"beloved  by  his  comrades  and  esteemed 
by  travelers." 

At  the  time  that  I  was  planning  my 
journey,  my  friends  Messrs.  A.  W. 
Moore  and  Horace  Walker  were  also 
drawing  up  their  programme,  and,  as 
we  found  that  our  wishes  were  very  sim- 
ilar, we  agreed  to  unite  our  respective 
parties.  My  friends  had  happily  secured 
Christian  Aimer  of  Grindelwald  as  their 
guide.  The  combination  of  Croz  and 
Aimer  was  a  perfect  one.  Both  men 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


77 


were  in  the  prime  of  life,  both  were  en- 
dued with  strength  and  activity  far  be- 
yond the  average,  and  the  courage  and 
the  knowledge  of  each  were  alike  un- 
doubted. The  temper  of  Aimer  it  was 
impossible  to  ruffle  :  he  was  ever  oblig- 
ing and  enduring  —  a  bold  but  a  safe 
man.  That  which  he  lacked  in  fire,  in 
dash,  was  supplied  by  Croz,  who,  in  his 
turn,  was  kept  in  place  by  Aimer.  It  is 
pleasant  to  remember  how  they  worked 
together,  and  how  each  one  confided  to 
you  that  he  liked  the  other  so  much  be- 
cause he  worked  so  well ;  but  it  is  sad, 
very  sad,  to  those  who  have  known  the 
men,  to  know  that  they  can  never  work 
together  again. 

We  met  at  St.  Michel  on  the  Mont 
Cenis  road  at  mid-day  on  June  20,  1864, 
and  proceeded  in  the  afternoon  over  the 
Col  de  Valloires  to  the  village  of  the 
same  name.  The  summit  of  this  pretty 
little  pass  is  about  thirty-five  hundred 
feet  above  St.  Michel,  and  from  it  we 
had  a  fair  view  of  the  Aiguilles  d'Arve, 
a  group  of  three  peaks  of  singular  form, 
which  it  was  our  especial  object  to  in- 
vestigate. They  had  been  seen  by  our- 
selves and  others  from  numerous  distant 
points,  and  always  looked  very  high  and 
very  inaccessible  ;  but  we  had  been  un- 
able to  obtain  any  information  about 
them,  except  the  few  words  in  Joanne's 
Itineraire  du  Dauphine.  Having  made 
out  from  the  summit  of  the  Col  de  Val- 
loires that  they  could  be  approached 
from  the  valley  of  Valloires,  we  hastened 
down  to  find  a  place  where  we  could 
pass  the  night,  as  near  as  possible  to  the 
entrance  of  the  little  valley  leading  up 
to  them. 

By  nightfall  we  arrived  at  the  entrance 
to  this  little  valley  (Vallon  des  Aiguilles 
d'Arve),  and  found  some  buildings 
placed  just  where  they  were  wanted. 
The  proprietress  received  us  with  civil- 
ity, and  placed  a  large  barn  at  our  dis- 
posal, on  the  condition  that  no  lights 
were  struck  or  pipes  smoked  therein ; 
and  when  her  terms  were  agreed  to,  she 
took  us  into  her  own  chalet,  made  up  a 
huge  fire,  heated  a  gallon  of  milk  and 
treated  us  with  genuine  hospitality. 

In  the  morning  we  found  that  the  Val- 


lon des  Aiguilles  d'Arve  led  away  near 
ly  due  west  from  the  valley  of  Valloires 
and  that  the  village  of  Bonnenuit  wai 
placed  (in  the  latter  valley)  almost  ex- 
actly opposite  to  the  junction  of  the  two. 

At  3.55  A.  M.  on  the  2ist  we  set  out  up 
the  Vallon,  passed  for  a  time  over  pas- 
ture-land, and  then  over  a  stony  waste, 
deeply  channeled  by  water-courses.  At 
5.30  the  two  principal  Aiguilles  were  well 
seen,  and  as  by  this  time  it  was  evident 
that  the  authors  of  the  Sardinian  official 
map  had  romanced  as  extensively  in 
this  neighborhood  as  elsewhere,  it  was 
necessary  to  hold  a  council. 

Three  questions  were  submitted  to  it : 
Firstly,  Which  is  the  highest  of  these 
Aiguilles  ?  Secondly,  Which  shall  we  go 
up  ?  Thirdly,  How  is  it  to  be  done  ? 

The  French  engineers,  it  was  said, 
had  determined  that  the  two  highest 
of  them  were  respectively  11,513  and 
11,529  feet  in  height ;  but  we  were  with- 
out information  as  to  which  two  they 
had  measured.  Joanne  indeed  said  (but 
without  specifying  whether  he  meant  all 
three)  that  the  Aiguilles  had  been  sev- 
eral times  ascended,  and  particularly 
mentioned  that  the  one  of  11,513  feet  was 
"relatively  easy." 

We  therefore  said,  "We  will  go  up  the 
peak  of  11,529  feet."  But  that  deter- 
mination did  not  settle  the  second  ques- 
tion. Joanne's  "relatively  easy"  peak, 
according  to  his  description,  was  evi- 
dently the  most  northern  of  the  three. 
Our  peak,  then,  was  to  be  one  of  the 
other  two,  but  which  of  them  ?  We 
were  inclined  to  favor  the  central  one, 
but  it  was  hard  to  determine,  they  look- 
ed so  equal  in  height.  When,  however, 
the  council  came  to  study  the  third  ques- 
tion, "How  is  it  to  be  done?"  it  was 
unanimously  voted  that  upon  the  eastern 
and  southern  sides  it  was  certainly  rela- 
tively difficult,  and  that  a  move  should 
be  made  round  to  the  northern  side. 

The  movement  was  duly  executed, 
and  after  wading  up  some  snow-slopes 
of  considerable  steepness  (going  occa- 
sionally beyond  40°),  we  found  ourselves 
in  a  gap  or  nick  between  the  central  and 
northernmost  Aiguille  at  8.45  A.  M.  We 
then  studied  the  northern  face  of  om 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


intended  peak,  and  finally  arrived  at 
the  conclusion  that  it  was  relatively 
impracticable.  Croz  shrugged  his  big 


shoulders,  and  said,  "  My  faith  !  I  think 
you  will  do  well  to  leave  it  to  others." 
Aimer  was  more  explicit,  and  volunteer- 


ed   the      s£ 
informatiorr 

that    a   thou- " 
sand    francs 
would  not  tempt 
him  to  try  it.     We 
then  turned  to  the 
northernmost  peak,  but 
found   its  southern   faces 
even    more    hopeless 
than  the  northern  faces 
of  the  central  one.    We 
enjoyed  accordingly  the 
unwonted   luxury  of  a 
three  hours'  rest  on  the 
top  of  our  pass,  for  pass  we  were  deter- 
mined it  should  be. 

We  might  have  done  worse.  W7e 
were  ten  thousand  three  hundred  or  ten 
thousand  four  hundred  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea,  and  commanded  a  most 


THE  AIGUILLES  D  ARVE,  FROM  ABOVE 
THE  CHALETS  OF  RIEU  BLANC. 


picturesque  view  of  the  moun- 
tains of  the  Tarentaise,  while 
somewhat  east  of  south  we 
saw  the  monarch  of  the  Dau- 
phine  massif t  whose  closer 
acquaintance  it  was  our  in- 
tention to  make.  Three  sun- 
hours  passed  away,  and 
then  we  turned  to  the  descent. 
We  saw  the  distant  pastures 
of  a  valley  (which  we  sup- 
posed was  the  Vallon  or  Ra- 
vine de  la  Sausse),  and  a 
long  snow-slope  leading 
down  to  them.  But  from 
that  slope  we  were  cut  off  by 
precipitous  rocks,  and  our 
first  impression  was  that  we 
should  have  to  return  in  our 
track.  Some  running  up  and 
down,  however,  discovered 
two  little  gullies  filled  with  threads  of 
snow,  and  down  the  most  northern  of 
these  we  decided  to  go.  It  was  a  steep 
way,  but  a  safe  one,  for  the  cleft  was  so 
narrow  that  we  could  press  the  shoulder 
against  one  side  whilst  the  feet  were 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


79 


against  the  othei ,  and  the  last  remnant 
of  the  winter's  snow,  well  hardened, 
clung  to  the  rift  with  great  tenacity,  and 
gave  us  a  path  when  the  rocks  refused 
one.  In  half  an  hour  we  got  to  the  top 
of  the  great  snow-slope.  Walker  said, 
"  Let  us  glissade  ;"  the  guides,  "No,  it  is 
too  steep."  Our  friend,  however,  start- 
ed off  at  a  standing  glissade,  and  ad- 
vanced for  a  time  very  skillfully ;  but 
after  a  while  he  lost  his  balance,  and 
progressed  downward  and  backward 
with  great  rapidity,  in  a  way  that  seem- 
ed to  us  very  much  like  tumbling  heels 
over  head.  He  let  go  his  axe  and  left 
it  behind,  but  it  overtook  him  and  bat- 
ted him  heartily.  He  and  it  traveled  in 
this  fashion  for  some  hundreds  of  feet, 
and  at  last  subsided  into  the  rocks  at  the 
bottom.  In  a  few  moments  we  were  re- 
assured as  to  his  safety  by  hearing  him 
ironically  request  us  not  to  keep  him 
waiting  down  there. 

We  others  followed  the  tracks  shown 
by  the  dotted  line  upon  the  engraving 
(making  zigzags  to  avoid  the  little  groups 
of  rocks  which  jutted  through  the  snow, 
by  which  Walker  had  been  upset),  de- 
scended by  a  sitting  glissade,  and  re- 
joined our  friend  at  the  bottom.  We 
then  turned  sharply  to  the  left,  and 
tramped  down  the  summit  ridge  of  an 
old  moraine  of  great  size.  Its  mud  was 
excessively  hard,  and  where  some  large 
erratic  blocks  lay  perched  upon  its  crest 
we  were  obliged  to  cut  steps. (in  the  mud) 
with  our  ice-axes. 

Guided  by  the  sound  of  a  distant 
"moo,"  we  speedily  found  the  highest 
chalets  in  the  valley,  named  Rieu  Blanc. 
They  were  tenanted  by  three  old  women 
(who  seemed  to  belong  to  one  of  the 
missing  links  sought  by  naturalists) 
destitute  of  all  ideas  except  in  regard  to 
cows,  and  who  spoke  a  barbarous  patois 
wellnigh  unintelligible  to  the  Savoyard 
Croz.  •  They  would  not  believe  that  we 
had  passed  between  the  Aiguilles  :  "  It  is 
impossible,  the  cows  never  go  there." 
"  Could  we  get  to  La  Grave  over  yonder 
ridge  ?"  "Oh  yes  !  the  cows  often  cross- 
ed!" Could  they  show  us  the  way? 
No,  but  we  could  follow  the  r<92£>-tracks. 

We  stayed  a  while  near  these  chalets 


to  examine  the  western  sides  of  the 
Aiguilles  d'Arve,  and,  according  to  our 
united  opinion,  the  central  one  was  as 
inaccessible  from  this  direction  as  from 
the  east,  north  or  south.  On  the  follow- 
ing day  we  saw  them  again,  from  a 
height  of  about  eleven  thousand  feet,  in 
a  south-easterly  direction,  and  our  opin- 
ion remained  unchanged. 

We  saw  (on  June  20-22)  the  central 
Aiguille  from  all  sides,  and  very  nearly 
completely  round  the  southernmost  one. 
The  northern  one  we  also  saw  on  all 
sides  excepting  from  the  north.  (It  is, 
however,  precisely  from  this  direction 
M.  Joanne  says  that  its  ascent  is  rela- 
tively easy.)  We  do  not,  therefore, 
venture  to  express  any  opinion  respect- 
ing its  ascent,  except  as  regards  its  actual 
summit.  This  is  formed  of  two  curious 
prongs  or  pinnacles  of  rock,  and  we  do 
not  understand  in  what  way  they  (or 
either  of  them)  can  be  ascended ;  nor 
shall  we  be  surprised  if  this  ascent  is 
discovered  to  have  been  made  in  spirit 
rather  than  body — in  fact,  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  celebrated  ascent  of 
Mont  Blanc,  "not  entirely  to  the  sum- 
mit, but  as  far  as  the  Montanvert !" 

All  three  of  the  Aiguilles  may  be  ac- 
cessible, but  they  look  as  inaccessible  as 
anything  I  have  seen.  They  are  the 
highest  summits  between  the  valleys  of 
the  Romanche  and  the  Arc  :  they  are 
placed  slightly  to  the  north  of  the  wa- 
tershed between  those  two  valleys,  and 
a  line  drawn  through  them  runs  pretty 
nearly  north  and  south. 

We  descended  by  a  rough  path  from 
Rieu  Blanc  to  the  chalets  of  La  Sausse, 
which  give  the  name  to  the  Vallon  or 
Ravine  de  la  Sausse  in  which  they  are 
situated.  This  is  one  of  the  numerous 
branches  of  the  valley  that  leads  to  St. 
Jean  d'Arve,  and  subsequently  to  St. 
Jean  de  Maurienne. 

Two  passes,  more  or  less  known,  lead 
from  this  valley  to  the  village  of  La 
Grave  (on  the  Lautaret  road)  in  the  val- 
ley of  the  Romanche — viz.,  the  Col  de 
1'Infernet  and  the  Col  de  Martignare. 
The  former  pass  was  crossed  just  thirty 
years  ago  by  J.  D.  Forbes,  and  was 
mentioned  by  him  in  his  Norway  and 


So 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


its  Glaciers.  The  latter  one  lies  to  the 
north  of  the  former,  and  is  seldom  trav- 
ersed by  tourists,  but  it  was  convenient 
for  us,  and  we  set  out  to  cross  it  on  the 
morning  of  the  22d,  after  having  passed 
a  comfortable  but  not  luxurious  night  in 
the  hay  at  La  Sausse,  where,  however, 
the  simplicity  of  the  accommodation 
was  more  than  counterbalanced  by  the 
civility  and  hospitality  of  the  people  in 
charge.* 

We  left  the  chalets  at  4.15  A.  M.  under 
a  shower  of  good  wishes  from  our  host- 
esses, proceeded  at  first  toward  the  up- 
per end  of  the  ravine,  then  doubled 
back  up  a  long  buttress  which  projects 
in  an  unusual  way,  and  went  toward  the 
Col  de  Martignare ;  but  before  arriving 
at  its  summit  we  again  doubled  and  re- 
sumed the  original  course.  At  6  A.  M. 
we  stood  on  the  watershed,  and  followed 
it  toward  the  east,  keeping  for  some  dis- 
tance strictly  to  the  ridge,  and  afterward 
diverging  a  little  to  the  south  to  avoid  a 
considerable  secondary  aiguille,  which 
prevented  a  straight  track  being  made 
to  the  summit  at  which  we  were  aiming. 
At  9. 1 5  we  stood  on  its  top,  and  saw  at 
once  the  lay  of  the  land. 

We  were  very  fortunate  in  the  selec- 
tion of  our  summit.  Not  to  speak  of 
other  things,  it  gave  a  grand  view  of  the 
ridge  which  culminates  in  the  peak  call- 
ed La  Meije  (13,080  feet),  which  used 
to  be  mentioned  by  travelers  under  the 
name  Aiguille  du  Midi  de  la  Grave.  It 

*  While  stopping  in  the  hospice  on  the  Col  de  Lau- 
taret  in  1869,  I  was  accosted  by  a  middle-aged  peas- 
ant, who  asked  if  I  would  ride  (for  a  consideration) 
in  his  cart  toward  BrianQon.  He  was  inquisitive  as 
to  my  knowledge  of  his  district,  and  at  last  asked, 
"  Have  you  been  at  La  Sausse?"  "  Yes."  "  Well, 
then.  1  tell  you,  you  saw  there  some  of  the  first  people 
in  the  ivorld."  "  Yes,"  I  said,  "  they  were  primitive, 
certainly."  But  he  was  serious,  and  went  on  : 
"  Yes,  real  brave  people  ;"  and  slapping  his  knee  to 
give  emphasis,  "  but  that  they  are  first-rate  for 
minding  the  cows  !" 

After  this  he  became  communicative.  "You 
thought,  probably,"  said  he,  "when  I  offered  to  take 

you  down,  that  I  was  some  poor ,  not  worth  a 

sou ;  but  I  will  tell  you,  that  was  my  mountain — my 
mountain — that  you  saw  at  La  Sausse  :  they  were  my 
cows,  a  hundred  of  them  altogether."  "  Why,  you 
are  rich  !"  "  Passably  rich.  I  have  another  moun- 
tain on  the  Col  du  Galibier,  and  another  at  Ville- 
neuve."  He  (although  a  common  peasant  in  outward 
appearance)  confessed  to  being  worth  four  thousand 
pounds. 


is  the  last,  the  only,  great  Alpine  peak 
which  has  never  known  the  foot  of  man, 
and  one  cannot  speak  in  exaggerated 
terms  of  its  jagged  ridges,  torrential  gla- 
ciers and  tremendous  precipices.  But 
were  I  to  discourse  upon  these  things 
without  the  aid  of  pictures,  or  to  en- 
deavor to  convey  in  words  a  sense  of 
the  loveliness  of  curves,  of  the  beauty 
of  color  or  of  the  harmonies  of  sound, 
I  should  try  to  accomplish  that  which  is 
impossible,  and  at  the  best  should  suc- 
ceed in  but  giving  an  impression  that 
the  things  spoken  of  may  have  been 
pleasant  to  hear  or  to  behold,  although 
they  are  perfectly  incomprehensible  to 
read  about.  Let  me  therefore  avoid 
these  things,  not  because  I  have  no  love 
for  or  thought  of  them,  but  because  they 
cannot  be  translated  into  language  ;  and 
presently,  when  topographical  details 
must  of  necessity  be  returned  to  again, 
I  will  endeavor  to  relieve  the  poverty 
of  the  pen  by  a  free  use  of  the  pencil. 

Whilst  we  sat  upon  the  Aiguille  de  la 
Sausse  our  attention  was  concentrated 
on  a  point  that  was  immediately  oppo- 
site— on  a  gap  or  cleft  between  the  Meije 
and  the  mountain  called  the  Rateau.  It 
was,  indeed,  in  order  to  have  a  good 
view  of  this  place  that  we  made  the 
ascent  of  the  Aiguille.  It  (that  is,  the 
gap  itself)  looked,  as  my  companions 
remarked,  obtrusively  and  offensively  a 
pass.  It  had  not  been  crossed,  but  it 
ought  to  have  been  ;  and  this  seemed  to 
have  been  recognized  by  the  natives,  who 
called  it,  very  appropriately,  the  Breche 
de  la  Meije.  It  led  to  La  Berarde,  a 
miserable  village,  without  interest,  with- 
out commerce,  and  almost  without  popu- 
lation. Why,  then,  did  we  wish  to  cross 
it  ?  Because  we  were  bound  to  the  Pointe 
des  Ecrins,  to  which  La  Berarde  was  the 
nearest  inhabited  place. 

When  we  sat  upon  the  Aiguille  de  la 
Sausse  we  were  rather  despondent  about 
our  prospects  of  crossing  the  Breche , 
which  seemed  to  present  a  combination 
of  all  that  was  formidable.  There  was 
evidently  but  one  way  by  which  it  could 
be  approached.  We  saw  that  at  the  top 
of  the  pass  there  was  a  steep  wall  of 
snow  or  ice  (so  steep  that  it  was  most 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


Si 


likely  ice),  protected  at  its  base  by  a  big 
schrund  or  moat,  which  severed  it  from 
the  snow-fields  below.  Then  (tracking 
our  course  downward)  we  saw  undulat- 
ing snow-fields  leading  down  to  a  great 
glacier.  The  snow-fields  would  be  easy 
work,  but  the  glacier  was  riven  and 
broken  in  every  direction,  huge  crevasses 
seemed  to  extend  entirely  across  it  in 
some  places,  and  everywhere  it  had  that 
strange  twisted  look  which  tells  of  the 
unequal  motion  of  the  ice.  Where 
could  we  get  on  to  it  ?  At  its  base  it 
came  to  a  violent  end,  being  cut  short 
by  a  cliff,  over  which  it  poured  periodical 
avalanches,  as  we  saw  by  a  great  trian- 
gular bed  of  debris  below.  We  could 
not  venture  there — the  glacier  must  be 
taken  in  flank.  But  on  which  side  ? 
Not  on  the  west — no  one  could  climb 
those  cliffs.  It  must,  if  anywhere,  be 
by  the  rocks  on  the  east,  and  they  looked 
as  if  they  were  roches  moutonnees. 

So  we  hurried  down  to  La  Grave,  to 
hear  what  Melchior  Anderegg  (who  had 
just  passed  through  the  village  with  the 
family  of  our  friend  Walker)  had  to  say 
on  the  matter.  Who  is  Melchior  Ander- 
egg ?  Those  who  ask  the  question  can- 
not have  been  in  Alpine  Switzerland, 
where  the  name  of  Melchior  is  as  well 
known  as  the  name  of  Napoleon.  Mel- 
chior, too,  is  an  emperor  in  his  way — a 
very  prince  among  guides.  His  empire 
is  amongst  the  "eternal  snows" — his 
sceptre  is  an  ice-axe. 

Melchior  Anderegg — more  familiarly 
and  perhaps  more  generally  known  sim- 
ply as  Melchior — was  born  at  Zaun,  near 
Meiringen,  on  April  6,  1828.  He  was 
first  brought  into  public  notice  in  Hinch- 
cliff's  Summer  Months  in  the  Alps,  and 
was  known  to  very  few  persons  at  the 
time  that  little  work  was  published.  In 
1855  he  was  "Boots"  at  the  Grimsel  ho- 
tel, and  in  those  days  when  he  went 
out  on  expeditions  it  was  for  the  benefit 
of  his  master,  the  proprietor :  Melchior 
himself  only  got  the  trinkgelt.  In  1856 
he  migrated  to  the  Schwarenbach  inn 
on  the  Gemmi,  where  he  employed  his 
time  in  carving  objects  for  sale.  In  1858 
he  made  numerous  expeditions  with 
Messrs.  Hinchcliff  and  Stephen,  and 


proved  to  his  employers  that  he  possess- 
ed first-rate  skill,  indomitable  courage 
and  an  admirable  character.  His  posi- 
tion has  never  been  doubtful  since  that 
year,  and  for  a  long  time  there  has  been 
no  guide  whose  services  have  been  more 
in  request :  he  is  usually  engaged  a  year 
in  advance. 


MELCHIUK    ANUEKECiG    IN    1864. 

It  would  be  almost  an  easier  task  to 
say  what  he  has  not  done  than  to  cata- 
logue his  achievements.  Invariable  suc- 
cess attends  his  arms  :  he  leads  his  fol- 
lowers to  victory,  but  not  to  death.  I 
believe  that  no  accident  has  ever  be- 
fallen travelers  in  his  charge.  Like  his 
friend  Aimer,  he  can  be  called  a  safe 
man.  It  is  the  highest  praise  that  can 
be  given  to  a  first-rate  guide. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  we  found  our- 
selves in  the  little  inn  at  La  Grave,  on 
the  great  Lautaret  road,  a  rickety,  tum- 
ble-down sort  of  place,  with  nothing  sta- 
ble about  it,  as  Moore  wittily  remarked, 
except  the  smell.  Melchior  had  gone, 


82 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


and  had  left  behind  a  note  which  said, 
"I  think  the  passage  of  the  Breche  is 
possible,  but  that  it  will  be  very  difficult." 
His  opinion  coincided  with  ours,  and  we 
went  to  sleep,  expecting  to  be  afoot 
about  eighteen  or  twenty  hours  on  the 
morrow. 

At  2.40  the  next  morning  we  left  La 
Grave,  in  a  few  minutes  crossed  the  Ro- 
manche,  and  at  4  A.  M.  got  to  the  mo- 
raine of  the  eastern  branch  of  the  glacier 
that  descends  from  the  Breche.*  The 
rocks  by  which  we  intended  to  ascend 

were     placed 

between  the 
two  branches 
of  this  glacier, 
and  still  looked 
smooth  and  un- 
broken.  But 
by  five  o'clock 
we  were  upon 
them.  We  had 
been  deluded 
by  them.  No 
carpenter  could 
have  planned 
a  more  conve- 
nient staircase. 
They  were  not 
ui  outonne: 
their  smooth 
look  from  a  dis- 
tance was  only 
owing  to  their 
singular  firm- 
ness. In  an 
hour  we  had 
risen  above  the 
most  crevassed 
portion  of  the 
glacier,  and  be- 
gan to  look  for 

a  way  on  to  it.  Just  at  the  right  place 
there  was  a  patch  of  old  snow  at  the 
side,  and,  instead  of  gaining  the  ice  by 
desperate  acrobatic  feats,  we  passed  from 
the  rocks  on  to  it  as  easily  as  one  walks 
across  a  gangway.  At  half-past  six  we 
were  on  the  centre  of  the  glacier,  and 
the  inhabitants  of  La  Grave  turned  out 
en  masse  into  the  road  and  watched  us 

*  Our  route  from  La  Grave  to  La  Berarde'will  be 
seen  on  the  accompanying  map. 


SCALE,  THREE  MILES  TO  AN 
INCH. 


with  amazement  as  they  witnessed  the 
falsification  of  their  confident  predic- 
tions. Well  might  they  stare,  for  our  little 
caravan,  looking  to  them  like  a  train  of 
flies  on  a  wall,  crept  up  and  up,  without 
hesitation  and  without  a  halt  —  lost  to 
their  sight  one  minute  as  it  dived  into  a 
crevasse,  then  seen  again  clambering 
up  the  other  side.  The  higher  we  rose 
the  easier  became  the  work,  the  angles 
lessened  and  our  pace  increased.  The 
snow  remained  shadowed,  and  we  walk- 
ed as  easily  as  on  a  high  road;  and 
when  (at  7.45)  the  summit  of  the  Breche 
was  seen,  we  rushed  at  it  as  furiously  as 
if  it  had  been  a  breach  in  the  wall  of 
a  fortress,  carried  the  moat  by  a  dash, 
with  a  push  behind  and  a  pull  before, 
stormed  the  steep  slope  above,  and  at 
8.50  stood  in  the  little  gap,  11,054  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea.  The  Breche 
was  won.  Well  might  they  stare — five 
hours  and  a  quarter  had  sufficed  for 
sixty-five  hundred  feet  of  ascent.f  We 
screamed  triumphantly  as  they  turned 
in  to  breakfast. 

Our  day's  work  was  as  good  as  over 
(for  we  knew  from  Messrs.  Mathews  and 
Bonney  that  there  was  no  difficulty  upon 
the  other  side),  and  we  abandoned  our- 
selves to  ease  and  luxury ;  wondering 
alternately,  as  we  gazed  upon  the  Rateau 
and  the  Ecrins,  how  the  one  mountain 
could  possibly  hold  itself  together,  and 
whether  the  other  would  hold  out  against 
us.  The  former  looked  so  rotten  that  it 
seemed  as  if  a  puff  of  wind  or  a  clap 
of  thunder  might  dash  the  whole  fabric 
to  pieces,  while  the  latter  asserted  itself 
the  monarch  of  the  group,  and  towered 
head  and  shoulders  above  all  the  rest 
of  the  peaks  which  form  the  great  horse- 
shoe of  Dauphine.  At  length  a  cruel 
rush  of  cold  air  made  us  shiver,  and 
shift  our  quarters  to  a  little  grassy  plot 
three  thousand  feet  below — an  oasis  in 
a  desert — where  we  lay  nearly  four  hours 
admiring  the  splendid  wall  which  pro- 
tects the  summit  of  the  Meije  from  as- 
sault upon  this  side.J  Then  we  tramp- 

f  Taking  one  kind  of  work  with  another,  a  thou- 
sand feet  of  height  per  hour  is  about  as  much  as  is 
usually  accomplished  on  great  Alpine  ascents. 

%  This  wall  may  be  described  as  an  exaggerated 
Gemmi,  as  seen  from  Leukerbad.  From  the  highest 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'6g. 


down  the  Vallon  des  Etar^ons,  a 
howling  wilderness,  the  abomination  of 
desolation  ;  destitute  alike  of  animal  or 
vegetable  life  ;  pathless,  of  course  ;  sug- 
gestive of  chaos,  but  of  little  else ;  cov- 
ered almost  throughout  its  entire  length 
with  debris,  from  the  size  of  a  walnut 
up  to  that  of  a  house  :  in  a  word,  it 
looked  as  if  half  a  dozen  moraines  of 
first-rate  dimensions  had  been  carted 
and  shot  into  it.  Our  tempers  were 
soured  by  constant  pitfalls :  it  was  im- 
possible to  take  the  eyes  from  the  feet, 


and  if  an  unlucky  individual  so  much 
as  blew  his  nose  without  standing  still  to 
perform  the  operation,  the  result  was 
either  an  instantaneous  tumble  or  a 
barked  shin  or  a  half-twisted  ankle. 
There  was  no  end  to  it,  and  we  became 
more  savage  at  every  step,  unanimously 
agreeing  that  no  power  on  earth  would 
ever  induce  us  to  walk  up  or  down  this 
particular  valley  again.  It  was  not  just 
to  the  valley,  which  was  enclosed  by 
noble  mountains — unknown,  it  is  true, 
but  worthy  of  a  great  reputation,  and 


THE  VALLON  DES  ETANgONS  (LOOKING  TOWARD  LA  BEKARDE). 


which,  if  placed  in  other  districts,  would 
be  sought  after  and  cited  as  types  of 
daring  form  and  graceful  outline. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
THE   ASCENT    OF   THE    1'OINTE   DES    ECRIXS. 

BEFORE  five  o'clock  on  the  afternoon 
of  June  23  we  were  trotting  down  the 

summit  of  La  Meije  right  down  to  the  Glacier  des 
Etancons  (a  depth  of  about  thirty-two  hundred  feet), 
the  cliff  is  all  but  perpendicular,  and  appears  to  be 
completely  unassailable.  The  dimensions  of  these 
pages  are  insufficient  to  do  justice  to  this  magnificent 
wall,  which  is  the  most  imposing  of  its  kind  that  I 
have  seen  ;  otherwise  it  would  have  been  engraved. 


steep  path  that  leads  into  La  Berarde. 
We  put  up,  of  course,  with  the  chasseur- 
guide  Rodier  (who,  as  usual,  was  smooth 
and  smiling),  and  after  congratulations 
were  over  we  returned  to  the  exterior  to 
watch  for  the  arrival  of  one  Alexander 
Pic,  who  had  been  sent  overnight  with 
our  baggage  via  Freney  and  Venos. 
But  when  the  night  fell  and  no  Pic  ap- 
peared, we  saw  that  our  plans  must  be 
modified,  for  he  was  necessary  to  our 
very  existence  :  he  carried  our  food,  our 
tobacco,  our  all.  So,  after  some  discus- 
sion, it  was  agreed  that  a  portion  of  our 
programme  should  be  abandoned,  that 


84 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


the  night  of  the  24th  should  be  passed 
at  the  head  of  the  Glacier  de  la  Bonne 
Pierre,  and  that  on  the  25th  a  push 
should  be  made  for  the  summit  of  the 
Ecrins.  We  then  went  to  straw. 

Our  porter  Pic  strolled  in  next  morn- 
ing with  his  usual  jaunty  air,  and  we 
seized  upon  our  tooth-brushes,  but  upon 
looking  for  the  cigars  we  found  starva- 
tion staring  us  in  the  face.  "  Hullo ! 
Monsieur  Pic,  where  are  our  cigars  ?" 
"Gentlemen,"  he  began,  "I  am  deso- 


lated!" and  then,  quite  pat,  he  told  a 
long  rigmarole  about  a  fit  on  the  road, 
of  brigands,  thieves,  of  their  ransacking 
the  knapsacks  when  he  was  insensible, 
and  of  finding  them  gone  when  he  re- 
vived. "Ah,  Monsieur  Pic  !  we  see  what 
it  is — you  have  smoked  them  yourself!" 
"Gentlemen,  I  never  smoke — never!" 
Whereupon  we  inquired  secretly  if  he 
was  known  to  smoke,  and  found  that  he 
was.  However,  he  said  that  he  had 
never  spoken  truer  words,  and  perhaps 


THE  CENTRAL  DAUPHINE  ALPS. 


he  had  not,  for  he  is  reported  to  be  the 
greatest  liar  in  Dauphine  ! 

We  were  now  able  to  start,  and  set 
out  at  1.15  p.  M.  to  bivouac  upon  the 
Glacier  de  la  Bonne  Pierre,  accompanied 
by  Rodier,  who  staggered  under  a  load 
of  blankets.  Many  slopes  had  to  be 
mounted,  and  many  torrents  to  be  cross- 
ed, all  of  which  have  been  described  by 
Mr.  Tuckett.  We,  however,  avoided 
the  difficulties  he  experienced  with  the 
latter  by  crossing  them  high  up,  where 
they  were  subdivided.  But  when  we  got 
on  to  the  moraine  on  the  right  bank  of 
the  glacier  (or,  properly  speaking,  on  to 


one  of  the  moraines,  for  there  are  sev- 
eral), mists  descended,  to  our  great  hin- 
drance, and  it  was  5.30  before  we  ar- 
rived on  the  spot  at  which  it  was  intend- 
ed to  camp. 

Each  one  selected  his  nook,  and  we 
then  joined  round  a  grand  fire  made  by 
our  men.  Fortnum  &  Mason's  portable 
soup  was  sliced  up  and  brewed,  and  was 
excellent ;  but  it  should  be  said  that  be- 
fore it  was  excellent  three  times  the 
quantity  named  in  the  directions  had  to 
be  used.  Art  is  required  in  drinking  as 
in  making  this  soup,  and  one  point  is 
this  :  always  let  your  friends  drink  first ; 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


not  only  because  it  is  more  polite,  but 
because  the  soup  has  a  tendency  to  burn 
the  mouth  if  taken  too  hot,  and  one 
drink  of  the  bottom  is  worth  two  of  the 
top,  as  all  the  goodness  settles. 

While  engaged  in  these  operations  the 
mist  that  enveloped  the  glacier  and  sur- 
rounding peaks  was  becoming  thinner  : 
little  bits  of  blue  sky  appeared  here  and 
there,  until  suddenly,  when  we  were 
looking  toward  the  head  of  the  glacier, 
far,  far  above  us,  at  an  almost  incon- 
ceivable height,  in  a  tiny  patch  of  blue, 
appeared  a  wonderful  rocky  pinnacle, 
bathed  in  the  beams  of  the  fast-sinking 
sun.  We  were  so  electrified  by  the  glory 
of  the  sight  that  it  was  some  seconds 
before  we  realized  what  we  saw,  and 
understood  that  that  astounding  point, 
removed  apparently  miles  from  the 
earth,  was  one  of  the  highest  summits 
of  Les  Ecrins,  and  that  we  hoped,  be- 
fore another  sun  had  set,  to  stand  upon 
an  even  loftier  pinnacle.  The  mists  rose 
and  fell,  presenting  us  with  a  series  of 
dissolving  views  of  ravishing  grandeur, 
and  finally  died  away,  leaving  the  glacier 
and  its  mighty  bounding  precipices  un- 
der an  exquisite  pale  blue  sky,  free  from 
a  single  speck  of  cloud. 

The  night  passed  over  without  any- 
thing worth  mention,  but  we  had  oc- 
casion to  observe  in  the  morning  an  in- 
stance of  the  curious  evaporation  that  is 
frequently  noticeable  in  the  High  Alps. 
On  the  previous  night  we  had  hung  up 
on  a  knob  of  rock  our  mackintosh  bag 
containing  five  bottles  of  Rodier's  bad 
wine.  In  the  morning,  although  the 
stopper  appeared  to  have  been  in  all 
night,  about  four-fifths  had  evaporated. 
It  was  strange  :  my  friends  had  not  taken 
any,  neither  had  I,  and  the  guides  each 
declared  that  they  had  not  seen  any  one 
touch  it.  In  fact,  it  was  clear  that  there 
was  no  explanation  of  the  phenomenon 
but  in  the  dryness  of  the  air.  Still,  it  is 
remarkable  that  the  dryness  of  the  air 
(or  the  evaporation  of  wine)  is  always 
greatest  when  a  stranger  is  in  one's 
party :  the  dryness  caused  by  the  pres- 
ence of  even  a  single  Chamounix  porter 
is  sometimes  so  great  that  not  four-fifths 
but  the  entire  quantity  disappears.  For 


a  time  I  found  difficulty  in  combating 
this  phenomenon,  but  at  last  discovered 
that  if  I  used  the  wine-flask  as  a  pillow 
during  the  night  the  evaporation  was 
completely  stopped. 

At  4  A.  M.  we  moved  off  across  the 
glacier  in  single  file  toward  the  foot"  of  a 
great  gully  which  led  from  the  upper 
slopes  of  the  Glacier  de  la  Bonne  Pierre 
to  the  lowest  point  in  the  ridge  that  runs 
from  the  Ecrins  to  the  mountain  called 
Roche  Faurio — cheered  by  Rodier,  who 
now  returned  with  his  wraps  to  La 
Berarde. 

By  five  minutes  to  six  we  were  at  the 
top  of  the  gully  (a  first-rate  couloir  about 
one  thousand  feet  high),  and  within  sight 
of  our  work.  Hard,  thin  and  wedge- 
like  as  the  Ecrins  had  looked  from  afar, 
it  had  never  looked  so  hard  and  so  thin 
as  it  did  when  we  emerged  from  the  top 
of  the  couloir  through  the  gap  in  the 
ridge:  no  tender  shadows  spoke  of 
broad  and  rounded  ridges,  but  sharp 
and  shadowless  its  serrated  edges  stood 
out  against  the  clear  sky.  It  had  been 
said  that  the  route  must  be  taken  by  one 
of  the  ridges  of  the  final  peak,  but  both 
were  alike  repellent,  hacked  and  notched 
in  numberless  places.  They  reminded 
me  of  my  failure  on  the  Dent  d' Kerens 
in  1863,  and  of  a  place  on  a  similar  ridge 
from  which  advance  or  retreat  was  alike 
difficult.  But,  presuming  one  or  other  of 
these  ridges  or  aretes  to  be  practicable, 
there  remained  the  task  of  getting  to 
them,  for  completely  round  the  base  of 
the  final  peak  swept  an  enormous  berg- 
schrund,  almost  separating  it  from  the 
slopes  which  lay  beneath.  It  was  evi- 
dent thus  early  that  the  ascent  would 
not  be  accomplished  without  exertion, 
and  that  it  would  demand  all  our  facul- 
ties and  all  our  time.  In  more  than  one 
respect  we  were  favored.  The  mists 
were  gone,  the  day  was  bright  and  per- 
fectly calm,  there  had  been  a  long  stretch 
of  fine  weather  beforehand,  and  the  snow 
was  in  excellent  order;  and,  most  im- 
portant of  all,  the  last  new  snow  which 
had  fallen  on  the  final  peak,  unable  to 
support  itself,  had  broken  away  and  roll- 
ed in  a  mighty  avalanche  over  schrund, 
neve,  seracs,  over  hills  and  valleys  in 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


the  glacier  (leveling  one  and  filling  the 
other),  completely  down  to  the  col,  where 


it  lay  in  huge  jammed  masses,  powerless 
to  harm  us ;  and  had  made  a  broad  track, 


almost  a  road,  over  which,  for  part  of 
the  way  at  least,  we  might  advance  with 
rapidity. 

We  took  in  all  this  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  seeing  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost, 
despatched  a. hasty  meal,  left  knapsacks, 
provisions  and  all  encumbrances  by  the 
col,  started  again  at  half-past  six,  and 
made  direct  for  the  left  side  of  the 
schrund,  for  it  was  there  alone  that  a 
passage  was  practicable.  We  crossed  it 
at  8.10.  Our  route  can  now  be  followed 
upon  the  annexed  outline.  The  arrow 


marked  D  points  out  the  direction  of  the 
Glacier  de  la  Bonne  Pierre.  The  ridge 
in  front,  that  extends  right  across,  is  the 
ridge  that  is  partially  shown  on  the  top 


of  the  map  at 
page  84,  leading 
from  Roche  Fau- 
rio  toward  the 
W.N.W.  We  ar- 
rived upon  the 
plateau  of  the  Gla- 
cier de  1'Encula,  behind  this  ridge,  from 
the  direction  of  D,  and  then  made  a 
nearly  straight  track  to  the  left  hand  of 
the  bergschrund  at  A. 

Thus  far  there  was  no  trouble,  but  the 
nature  of  the  work  changed  immediately. 
If  we  regard  the  upper  seven  hundred 
feet  alone  of  the  final  peak  of  the  Ecrins, 
it  may  be  described  as  a  three-sided 
pyramid.  One  face  is  toward  the  Glacier 
Noir,  and  forms  one  of  the  sheerest  pre- 
cipices in  the  Alps.  Another  is  toward  the 
Glacier  du  Vallon,  and  is  less  steep  and 
less  uniform  in  angle  than  the  first.  The 
third  is  toward  the  Glacier  de  1'Encula, 
and  it  was  by  this  one  we  approached 
the  summit.  Imagine  a  triangular  plane 
seven  hundred  or  eight  hundred  feet 
high,  set  at  an  angle  exceeding  50° ;  let 
it  be  smooth,  glassy  ;  let  the  uppermost 
edges  be  cut  into  spikes  and  teeth,  and 
let  them  be  bent,  some  one  way,  some 
another.  Let  the  glassy  face  be  covered 
with  minute  fragments  of  rock,  scarcely 
attached,  but  varnished  with  ice  :  imag- 
ine this,  and  then  you  will  have  a  very 
faint  idea  of  the  face  of  the  Ecrins  on 
which  we  stood.  It  \vas  not  possible  to 
avoid  detaching  stones,  which,  as  they 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


fell,  caused  words  unmentionable  to  rise. 
The  greatest  friends  would  have  reviled 
each  other  in  such  a  situation.  We 
gained  the  eastern  arete,  and  endeav- 
ored for  half  an  hour  to  work  upward 
toward  the  summit,  but  it  was  useless 
(each  yard  of  progress  cost  an  incredi- 
ble time) ;  and  having  no  desire  to  form 
the  acquaintance  of  the  Glacier  Noir  in 
a  precipitate  manner,  we  beat  a  retreat 
and  returned  to  the  schrund.  We  again 
held  a  council,  and  it  was  unanimously 
decided  that  we  should  be  beaten  if  we 
could  not  cut  along  the  upper  edge  of 
the  schrund,  and,  when  nearly  beneath 
the  summit,  work  up  to  it.  So  Croz  took 
off  his. coat  and  went  to  work,  on  ice- 
not  that  black  ice  so  often  mentioned 
and  so  seldom  seen,  but  on  ice  as  hard 
as  ice  could  be.  Weary  work  for  the 
guides.  Croz  cut  for  more  than  half  an 
hour,  and  we  did  not  seem  to  have  ad- 
vanced at  all.  Some  one  behind,  see- 
ing how  great  the  labor  was  and  how 
slow  the  progress,  suggested  that  after 
all  we  might  do  better  on  the  arete. 
Croz's  blood  was  up,  and,  indignant  at 
this  slight  on  his  powers,  he  ceased 
working,  turned  in  his  steps,  and  rushed 
toward  me  with  a  haste  that  made  me 
shudder  :  "  By  all  means  let  us  go  there ! 
— the  sooner  the  better."  No  slight  was 
intended,  and  he  resumed  his  work,  after 
a  time  being  relieved  by  Aimer.  Half- 
past  ten  came :  an  hour  had  passed — 
they  were  still  cutting.  Dreary  work  for 
us,  for  there  was  no  capering  about  to 
be  done  here  ;  hand  as  well  as  foot  holes 
were  necessary  ;  the  fingers  and  toes  got 
very  cold ;  the  ice,  as  it  boomed  in 
bounding  down  the  bergschrund,  was 
very  suggestive  ;  conversation  was  very 
restricted,  separated  as  we  were  by  our 
tether  of  twenty  feet  apiece.  Another 
hour  passed.  We  were  now  almost  im- 
mediately below  the  summit,  and  we 
stopped  to  look  up.  We  were  nearly  as 
far  off  it  (vertically)  as  we  had  been 
more  than  three  hours  before.  The  day 
seemed  going  against  us.  The  only 
rocks  near  at  hand  were  scattered,  no 
bigger  than  tea-cups,  and  most  of  these, 
we  found  afterward,  were  glazed  with 
ice.  Time  forbade  cutting  right  up  to 


the  summit,  even  had  it  been  possible, 
which  it  was  not.  We  decided  to  go  up 
to  the  ridge  again  by  means  of  the  rocks, 
but  had  we  not  had  a  certain  confidence 
in  each  other,  it  unquestionably  would 
not  have  been  done  ;  for  this,  it  must  be 
understood,  was  a  situation  where  not 
only  might  a  slip  have  been  fatal  to 
every  one,  but  it  would  have  been  so 
beyond  doubt :  nothing,  moreover,  was 
easier  than  to  make  one.  It  was  a  place 
where  all  had  to  work  in  unison,  where 
there  must  be  no  slackening  of  the  rope 
and  no  unnecessary  tension.  For  an- 
other hour  we  were  in  this  trying  situa- 
tion, and  at  12.30  we  gained  the  arete 
again,  but  at  a  much  higher  point  (  B  ), 
close  to  the  summit.  Our  men  were,  I 
am  afraid,  wellnigh  worn  out:  cutting 
up  a  couloir  one  thousand  feet  high  was 
not  the  right  sort  of  preparation  for  work 
of  this  kind.  Be  it  so  or  not,  we  were 
all  glad  to  rest  for  a  short  time,  for  we 
had  not  sat  down  a  minute  since  leaving 
the  col,  six  hours  before.  Aimer,  how- 
ever, was  restless,  knowing  that  mid-day 
was  past,  and  that  much  remained  to  be 
accomplished,  and  untied  himself  and 
commenced  working  toward  the  summit. 
Connecting  the  teeth  of  rock  were  beds 
of  snow,  and  Aimer,  but  a  few  feet  from 
me,  was  crossing  the  top  of  one  of  these, 
when  suddenly,  without  a  moment's 
warning,  it  broke  away  under  him  and 
plunged  down  on  to  the  glacier.  As  he 
staggered  for  a  second,  one  foot  in  the 
act  of  stepping  and  the  other  on  the  fall- 
ing mass,  I  thought  him  lost,  but  he 
happily  fell  on  to  the  right  side  and  stop- 
ped himself.  Had  he  taken  the  step 
with  his  right  instead  of  his  left  foot, 
he  would,  in  all  probability,  have  fallen 
several  hundred  feet  without  touching 
anything,  and  would  not  have  been  ar- 
rested before  reaching  the  glacier,  a  ver- 
tical distance  of  at  least  three  thousand 
feet. 

Small,  ridiculously  small,  as  the  dis- 
tance was  to  the  summit,  we  were  occu- 
pied nearly  another  hour  before  it  was 
gained.  Aimer  was  i  few  feet  in  front, 
and  he,  with  characteristic  modesty, 
hesitated  to  step  on  the  highest  point, 
and  drew  back  to  allow  us  to  pass.  A 


88 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  7Ar  1860-' 69. 


cry  was  raised  for  Croz,  who  had  done 
the  chief  part  of  the  work,  but  he  de- 
clined the  honor,  and  we  marched  on  to 
the  top  simultaneously — that  is  to  say, 
clustered  round  it,  a  yard  or  two  below, 
for  it  was  much  too  small  to  get  upon. 

According  to  my  custom,  I  bagged  a 
piece  from  off  the  highest  rock  (chlorite 
slate),  and  I  found  afterward  that  it  had 
a  striking  similarity  to  the  final  peak  of 
the  Ecrins.  I  have  noticed  the  same 


FRAGMENT    FKOM    THE    SUMMIT    OF    THE     POJNTE 
DES    ECRINS. 


thing  on  other  occasions,  and  it  is  worthy 
of  remark  that  not  only  do  fragments  of 
such(rock  as  limestone  often  present  the 
characteristic  forms  of  the  cliffs  from 
which  they  have  been  broken,  but  that 
morsels  of  mica  slate  will  represent,  in 
a  wonderful  manner,  the  identical  shape 
of  the  peaks  of  which  they  have  formed 
part.  Why  should  it  not  be  so  if  the 
mountain's  mass  is  more  or  less  homo- 
geneous ?  The  same  causes  which  pro- 
duce the  small  forms  fashion  the  large 
ones  :  the  same  influences  are  at  work — 
the  same  frost  and  rain  give  shape  to  the 
mass  as  well  as  to  its  parts. 

Did  space  permit  me,  I  could  give  but 
a  sorry  idea  of  the  view,  but  it  will  be 
readily  imagined  that  a  panorama  ex- 
tending over  as  much  ground  as  the 
whole  of  England  is  one  worth  taking 
some  trouble  to  see,  and  one  which  is 
not  often  to  be  seen  even  in  the  Alps. 
No  clouds  obscured  it,  and  a  list  of  the 


summits  that  we  saw  would  include 
nearly  all  the  highest  peaks  of  the  chain. 
I  saw  the  Pelvoux  now — as  I  had  seen 
the  Ecrins  from  it  three  years  before — 
across  the  basin  of  the  Glacier  Noir.  It 
is  a  splendid  mountain,  although  in 
height  it  is  equaled,  if  not  surpassed,  by 
its  neighbor,  the  Alefroide. 

We  could  stay  on  the  summit  but  a 
short  time,  and  at  a  quarter  to  two  pre- 
pared for  the  descent.  Now,  as  we  look- 
ed down,  and  thought  of  what  we  had 
passed  over  in  coming  up,  we  one  and  all 
hesitated  about  returning  the  same  way. 
Moore  said,  No.  Walker  said  the  same, 
and  I  too — the  guides  were  both  of  the 
same  mind :  this,  be  it  remarked,  al- 
though we  had  considered  that  there 
was  no  chance  whatever  of  getting  up 
any  other  way.  But  those  "last  rocks  " 
were  not  to  be  forgotten.  Had  they  but 
protruded  to  a  moderate  extent,  or  had 
they  been  merely  glazed,  we  should 
doubtless  still  have  tried  ;  but  they  were 
not  reasonable  rocks — they  would  neither 
allow  us  to  hold  nor  would  do  it  them- 
selves. So  we  turned  to  the  western 
arete,  trusting  to  luck  that  we  should 
find  a  way  down  to  the  schrund,  and 
some  means  of  getting  over  it  afterward. 
Our  faces  were  a  tolerable  index  to  our 
thoughts,  and  apparently  the  thoughts 
of  the  party  were  not  happy  ones.  Had 
any  one  then  said  to  me,  "You  are  a 
great  fool  for  coming  here,"  I  should 
have  answered  with  humility,  "  It  is  too 
true."  And  had  my  monitor  gone  on  to 
say,  "  Swear  you  will  never  ascend  an- 
other mountain  if  you  get  down  safely," 
I  am  inclined  to  think  I  should  have 
taken  the  oath.  In  fact,  the  game  here 
was  not  worth  the  risk.  The  guides  felt 
it  as  well  as  ourselves,  and  as  Aimer  led 
off  he  remarked,  with  more  piety  than 
logic,  "The  good  God  has  brought  us 
up,  and  he  will  take  us  down  in  safety  ;" 
which  showed  pretty  well  what  he  was 
thinking  about. 

The  ridge  down  which  we  now  en- 
deavored to  make  our  way  was  not  in- 
ferior in  difficulty  to  the  other.  Both 
were  serrated  to  an  extent  that  made  it 
impossible  to  keep  strictly  to  them,  and 
obliged  us  to  descend  occasionally  for 


UF    JU3JK 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  /A'  iS6o-'69. 


89 


some  distance  on  the  northern  face  and 
then  mount  again.  Both  were  so  rotten 
that  the  most  experienced  of  our  party, 
as  well  as  the  least,  continually  upset 
blocks  large  and  small.  Both  aretes 
were  so  narrow,  so  thin,  that  it  was  often 
a  matter  for  speculation  on  which  side 
an  unstable  block  would  fall. 

At  one  point  it  seemed  that  we  should 
be  obliged  to  return  to  the  summit  and 
try  the  other  way  down.  We  were  on 
the  very  edge  of  the  arete  :  on  one  side 
was  the  enormous  precipice  facing  the 
Pelvoux,  which  is  not  far  from  perpen- 
dicular— on  the  other  a  slope  exceeding 
50°.  A  deep  notch  brought  us  to  an 
abrupt  halt.  Aimer,  who  was  leading, 
advanced  cautiously  to  the  edge  on  his 
hands  and  knees  and  peered  over :  his 
care  was  by  no  means  unnecessary,  for 
the  rocks  had  broken  away  from  under 
us  unexpectedly  several  times.  In  this  po- 
sition he  looked  down  for  some  moments, 
and  then  without  a  word  turned  his  head 
and  looked  at  us.  His  face  may  have 
expressed  apprehension  or  alarm,  but  it 
certainly  did  not  show  hope  or  joy.  We 
learned  that  there  was  no  means  of  get- 
ting down,  and  that  we  must,  if  we  want- 
ed to  pass  it,  jump  across  on  to  an  un- 
stable block  on  the  other  side.  It  was 
decided  that  it  should  be  done,  and  Ai- 
mer, with  a  larger  extent  of  rope  than 
usual,  jumped:  the  rock  swayed  as  he 
came  down  upon  it,  but  he  clutched  a 
large  mass  with  both  arms  and  brought 
himself  to  anchor.  That  which  was 
both  difficult  and  dangerous  for  the  first 
man  was  easy  enough  for  the  others, 
and  we  got  across  with  less  trouble  than 
I  expected,  stimulated  by  Croz's  perfect- 
ly just  observation,  that  if  we  couldn't 
get  across  there  we  were  not  likely  to 
get  down  the  other  way. 

We  had  now  arrived  at  C,  and  could 
no  longer  continue  on  the  arete,  so  we 
commenced  descending  the  face  again. 
Before  long  we  were  close  to  the  schrund, 
but  unable  to  see  what  it  was  like  at  this 
part,  as  the  upper  edge  bent  over.  Two 
hours  had  already  passed  since  leaving 
the  summit,  and  it  began  to  be  highly 
probable  that  we  should  have  to  spend 
a  night  on  the  Glacier  Blanc.  Aimer, 


who  yet  led,  cut  steps  right  down  to  the 
edge,  but  still  he  could  not  see  below : 
therefore,  warning  us  to  hold  tight,  he 
made  his  whole  body  rigid,  and  (stand- 
ing in  the  large  step  which  he  had  cut 
for  the  purpose)  had  the  upper  part  of 
his  person  lowered  out  until  he  saw  what 
he  wanted.  He  shouted  that  our  work 
was  finished,  made  me  come  close  to  the 
edge  and  untie  myself,  advanced  the 
others  until  he  had  rope  enough,  and 
then  with  a  loud  jodel  jumped  down 
on  to  soft  snow.  Partly  by  skill  and 
partly  by  luck  he  had  hit  the  crevasse 
at  its  easiest  point,  and  we  had  only  to 
make  a  downward  jump  of  eight  or  ten 
feet. 

It  was  now  4.45  p.  M.  :  we  had  been 
more  than  eight  hours  and  a  half  ac- 
complishing the  ascent  of  the  final  peak, 
which,  according  to  an  observation  by 
Mr.  Bonney  in  1862,  is  only  525  feet 
high.*  During  this  period  we  had  not 
stopped  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  and 
our  nerves  and  muscles  had  been  kept 
at  the  highest  degree  of  tension  the 
whole  time.  It  may  be  imagined  that 
we  accepted  the  ordinary  conditions  of 
glacier  traveling  as  an  agreeable  relief, 
and  that  that  which  at  another  time 
might  have  seemed  formidable  we  treat- 
ed as  the  veriest  bagatelle.  Late  in  the 
day  as  it  was,  and  soft  as  was  the  snow, 
we  put  on  such  pace  that  we  reached 
the  Col  des  Ecrins  in  less  than  forty 
minutes.  We  lost  no  time  in  arranging 
our  baggage,  for  we  had  still  to  traverse 
a  long  glacier,  and  to  get  clear  of  two 
ice-falls  before  it  was  dark;  so  at  5.35 
we  resumed  the  march,  adjourning  eat- 
ing and  drinking,  and  put  on  a  spurt 
which  took  us  clear  of  the  Glacier  Blanc 
by  7.45  p.  M.  We  got  clear  of  the  mo- 
raine of  the  Glacier  Noir  at  8.45,  just  as 
the  last  remnant  of  daylight  vanished. 
Croz  and  myself  were  a  trifle  in  advance 
of  the  others,  and  fortunately  so  for  us ; 
for  as  they  were  about  to  commence  the 
descent  of  the  snout  of  the  glacier,  the 
whole  of  the  moraine  that  rested  on  its 


*Sec  vol.  i.,  p.  73,  of  Alpine  Journal.  We  con- 
sidered the  height  assigned  to  the  final  peak  bv  Mr. 
Bonney  was  too  small,  and  thought  it  should  have 
been  two  hundred  feet  more. 


9° 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


face  peeled  off  and  came  down  with  a 
tremendous  roar. 

We  had  now  the  pleasure  of  walking 
over  a  plain  that  is  known  by  the  name 
of  the  Pre  de  Madame  Carle,  covered 
with  pebbles  of  all  sizes  and  intersected 
by  numerous  small  streams  or  torrents. 
Every  hole  looked  like  a  stone,  every 
stone  like  a  hole,  and  we  tumbled  about 
from  side  to  side  until  our  limbs  and  our 
tempers  became  thoroughly  jaded.  My 
companions,  being  both  short-sighted, 
found  the  traveling  especially  disagree- 
able ;  so  there  was  little  wonder  that 
when  we  came  upon  a  huge  mass  of 
rock  as  big  as  a  house,  which  had  fallen 
from  the  flanks  of  Pelvoux,  a  regular 
cube  that  offered  no  shelter  whatever, 
Moore  cried  out  in'  ecstasy,  "Oh,  how 
delightful !  the  very  thing  I  have  been 
longing  for!  Let  us  have  a  perfectly 
extemporaneous  bivouac."  This,  it 
should  be  said,  was  when  the  night 
threatened  thunder  and  lightning,  rain 
and  all  other  delights. 

The  pleasures  of  a  perfectly  extem- 
poraneous bivouac  under  these  circum- 
stances not  being  novelties  to  Croz  and 
myself,  we  thought  we  would  try  for  the 
miseries  of  a  roof,  but  Walker  and  Ai- 
mer, with  their  usual  good-nature,  de- 
clared it  was  the  very  thing  that  they 
too  were  longing  for ;  so  the  trio  resolved 
to  stop.  We  generously  left  them  all 
the  provisions  (a  dozen  cubic  inches  or 
thereabouts  of  bacon  fat  and  half  a  can- 
dle), and  pushed  on  for  the  chalets  of 
Alefroide,  or  at  least  we  thought  we  did, 
but  could  not  be  certain.  In  the  course 
of  half  an  hour  we  got  uncommonly 
close  to  the  main  torrent,  and  Croz  all 
at  once  disappeared.  I  stepped  cau- 
tiously forward  to  peer  down  into  the 
place  where  I  thought  he  was,  and  quiet- 
ly tumbled  head  over  heels  into  a  big 
rhododendron  bush.  Extricating  my- 
self with  some  trouble,  I  fell  backward 
over  some  rocks,  and  got  wedged  in  a 
cleft  so  close  to  the  torrent  that  it  splash- 
ed all  over  me. 

The  colloquy  which  then  ensued  amid 
the  thundering  of  the  stream  was  as 
follows:  "Hullo,  Croz!  "Eh,  mon- 
sieur?" "Where  are  you?"  "Here, 


monsieur."  "Where  is  here  ?"  "I  don't 
know  :  where  are  you  ?"  "  Here,  Croz ;" 
and  so  on. 

The  fact  was,  from  the  intense  dark- 
ness and  the  noise  of  the  torrent,  we  had 
no  idea  of  each  other's  situation  :  in  the 
course  of  ten  minutes,  however,  we  join- 
ed together  again,  agreed  we  had  quite 
enough  of  that  kind  of  thing,  and  ad- 
journed to  a  most  eligible  rock' at  10.15. 

How  well  I  remember  the  night  at 
that  rock,  and  the  jolly  way  in  which 
Croz  came  out !  We  were  both  very  wet 
about  the  legs,  and  both  uncommonly 
hungry,  but  the  time  passed  pleasantly 
enough  round  our  fire  of  juniper,  and 
until  long  past  midnight  we  sat  up 
recounting,  over  our  pipes,  wonderful 
stories  of  the  most  incredible  descrip- 
tion, in  which,  I  must  admit,  my  com- 
panion beat  me  hollow.  Then  throwing 
ourselves  on  our  beds  of  rhododendron, 
we  slept  an  untroubled  sleep,  and  rose 
on  a  bright  Sunday  morning  as  fresh  as 
might  be,  intending  to  enjoy  a  day's  rest 
and  luxury  with  our  friends  at  La  Ville 
de  Val  Louise. 

I  have  failed  to  give  the  impression  I 
wish  if  it  has  not  been  made  evident 
that  the  ascent  of  the  Pointe  des  Ecrins 
was  not  an  ordinary  piece  of  work. 
There  is  an  increasing  disposition  now- 
a-days,  amongst  those  who  write  on  the 
Alps,  to  underrate  the  difficulties  and 
dangers  which  are  met  with,  and  this 
disposition  is,  I  think,  not  less  mischiev- 
ous than  the  old-fashioned  style  of  mak- 
ing everything  terrible.  Difficult  as  we 
found  the  peak,  I  believe  we  took  it  at 
the  best,  perhaps  the  only  possible,  time 
of  the  year.  The  great  slope  on  which 
we  spent  so  much  time  was,  from  being 
denuded  by  the  avalanche  of  which  I 
have  spoken,  deprived  of  its  greatest 
danger.  Had  it  had  the  snow  still  rest- 
ing upon  it,  and  had  we  persevered  with 
the  expedition,  we  should  almost  without 
doubt  have  ended  with  calamity  instead 
of  success.  The  ice  of  that  slope  is 
always  below,  its  angle  is  severe,  and 
the  rocks  do  not  project  sufficiently  to 
afford  the  support  that  snow  requires  to 
be  stable  when  at  a  great  angle.  So  far 
am  I  from  desiring  to  tempt  any  one  to 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


repeat  the  expedition,  that  I  put  it  on 
record  as  my  belief,  however  sad  and 
however  miserable  a  man  may  have 
been,  if  he  is  found  on  the  summit  of 


the  Pointe  des  Ecrins  after  a  fall  of  new 
snow,  he  is  likely  to  experience  misery 
far  deeper  than  anything  with  which  he 
has  hitherto  been  acquainted. 


-VI. 


CHAPTER  X. 

FROM  VAL  LOUISE  TO  LA  BERARDE  BY 
THE  COL  DE  PILATTE. 

FROM  Ailefroide  to  Claux,  but  for 
the  path,  travel  would  be  scarcely 
more  easy  than  over  the  Pre  de  Madame 
Carle.  The  valley  is  strewn  with  im- 
mense masses  of  gneiss,  from  the  size 
of  a  large  house  downward,  and  it  is 
only  occasionally  that  rock  in  situ  is 
seen,  so  covered  up  is  it  by  the  debris, 
which  seems  to  have  been  derived  al- 
most entirely  from  the  neighboring  cliffs. 

It  was  Sunday,  a  day  most  calm  and 
bright.  Golden  sunlight  had  dispersed 
the  clouds  and  was  glorifying  the  heights, 
and  we  forgot  hunger  through  the  bril- 
liancy of  the  morning  and  beauty  of  the 
mountains. 

•We  meant  the  26th  to  be  a  day  of  rest, 
but  it  was  little  that  we  found  in  the 
cabaret  of  Claude  Giraud,  and  we  fled 
before  the  babel  of  sound  which  rose  in 
intensity  as  men  descended  to  a  depth 
which  is  unattainable  by  the  beasts  of 
the  field,  and  found  at  the  chalets  of 
Entraigues  the  peace  that  had  been  de- 
nied to  us  at  Val  Louise. 

Again  we  were  received  with  the  most 
cordial  hospitality.  Everything  that  was 
eatable  or  drinkable  was  brought  out 


and  pressed  upon  us ;  very  little  curiosity 
was  exhibited  ;  all  information  that  could 
be  afforded  was  given ;  and  when  we 
retired  to  our  clean  straw  we  again  con- 
gratulated each  other  that  we  had  es- 
caped from  the  foul  den  which  is  where 
a  good  inn  should  be,  and  had  cast  in 
our  lot  with  those  who  dwell  in  chalets. 
Very  luxurious  that  straw  seemed  after 
two  nights  upon  quartz  pebbles  and 
glacier  mud,  and  I  felt  quite  aggrieved 
(expecting  it  was  the  summons  for  de- 
parture) when,  about  midnight,  the  heavy 
wooden  door  creaked  on  its  hinges,  and 
a  man  hem'd  and  ha'd  to  attract  atten- 
tion ;  but  when  it  whispered,  "  Monsieur 
Edvard,"  I  perceived  my  mistake :  it 
was  our  Pelvoux  companion,  Monsieur 
Reynaud,  the  excellent  agent-voyer  of 
La  Bessee. 

Monsieur  Reynaud  had  been  invited 
to  accompany  us  on  the  excursion  that 
is  described  in  this  chapter,  but  had  ar- 
rived at  Val  Louise  after  we  had  left, 
and  had  energetically  pursued  us  during 
the  night.  Our  idea  was,  that  a  pass 
might  be  made  over  the  high  ridge  call- 
ed (on  the  French  map)  Crete  de  Boeufs 
Rouges,  near  to  the  peak  named  Les 
Bans,  which  might  be  the  shortest  route 
in  time  (as  it  certainly  would  be  in  dis- 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


tance)  from  Val  Louise  across  the  cen- 
tral Dauphine  Alps.  We  had  seen  the 
northern  (or  Pilatte)  side  from  the  Breche 
de  la  Meije,  and  it  seemed  to  be  practi- 
cable at  one  place  near  the  above-men- 
tioned mountain.  More  than  that  could 
not  be  told  at  a  distance  of  eleven  miles. 
We  intended  to  try  to  hit  a  point  on  the 
ridge  immediately  above  the  part  where 
it  seemed  to  be  easiest. 

\Ve  left  Entraigues  at  3.30  on  the 
morning  of  June  27,  and  proceeded,  over 
very  gently-inclined  ground,  toward  the 
foot  of  the  Pic  de  Bonvoisin  (following, 
in  fact,  the  route  of  the  Col  de  Sellar, 
which  leads  from  the  Val  Louise  into 
the  Val  Godemar),*  and  at  5  A.  M.,  find- 
ing that  there  was  no  chance  of  obtain- 
ing a  view  from  the  bottom  of  the  val- 
ley of  the  ridge  over  which  our  route 
was  to  be  taken,  sent  Aimer  up  the  lower 
slopes  of  the  Bonvoisin  to  reconnoitre. 
He  telegraphed  that  we  might  proceed, 
and  at  5.45  we  quitted  the  snow-beds  at 
the  bottom  of  the  valley  for  the  slopes 
which  rose  toward  the  north. 

The  course  was  north-north-west,  and 
was  prodigiously  steep.  In  less  than  two 
miles"  difference  of  latitude  we  rose  one 
mile  of  absolute  height.  But  the  route 
was  so  far  from  being  an  exceptionally 
difficult  one  that  at  10.45  we  stood  on 
the  summit  of  the  pass,  having  made  an 
ascent  of  more  than  five  thousand  feet 
in  five  hours,  inclusive  of  halts. 

Upon  the  French  map  a  glacier  is  laid 
down  on  the  south  of  the  Crete  des 
Bceufs  Rouges,  extending  along  the  en- 
tire length  of  the  ridge,  at  its  foot,  from 
east  to  west.  In  1864  this  glacier  did 
not  exist  as  one  glacier,  but  in  the  place 
where  it  should  have  been  there  were 
several  small  ones,  all  of  which  were,  I 
believe,  separated  from  each  other.f 

We  commenced  the  ascent  from  the 

*  The  height  of  Col  de  Sellar  (or  de  Celar)  is  10,073 
feet  (Forbes).  I  was  told  by  peasants  at  Entraigues 
that  sheep  and  goats  can  be  easily  taken  across  it. 

fit  is  perhaps  just  possible,  although  improbable, 
that  these  little  glaciers  were  united  together  at  the 
time  that  the  survey  was  made.  Since  then  the  gla- 
ciers of  Dauphine  (as  throughout  the  Alps  generally) 
have  shrunk  very  considerably.  A  notable  diminu- 
tion took  place  in  their  size  in  1869,  which  was  at- 
tributed by  the  natives  to  the  very  heavy  rains  of  that 
year. 


Val  d' Entraigues  to  the  west  of  the  most 
western  of  these  small  glaciers,  and 
quitted  the  valley  by  the  first  great  gap 
in  its  cliffs  after  that  glacier  was  passed. 
We  did  not  take  to  the  ice  until  it  afford- 
ed an  easier  route  than  the  rocks  :  then 
(at  8.30)  Croz  went  to  the  front,  and  led 
with  admirable  skill  through  a  maze  of 
crevasses  up  to  the  foot  of  a  great  snow- 
couloir  that  rose  from  the  head  of  the 
glacier  to  the  summit  of  the  ridge  over 
which  we  had  to  pass. 

We  had  settled  beforehand  in  Lon- 
don, without  knowing  anything  whatever 
about  the  place,  that  such  a  couloir  as 
this  should  be  in  this  angle ;  but  when 
we  got  into  the  Val  d' Entraigues,  and 
found  that  it  was  not  possible  to  see  into 
the  corner,  our  faith  in  its  existence  be- 
came less  and  less,  until  the  telegraph- 
ing of  Aimer,  who  was  sent  up  the  oppo- 
site slopes  to  search  for  it,  assured  us 
that  we  were  true  prophets. 

Snow -couloirs  are  nothing  more  or 
less  than  gullies  partly  filled  by  snow. 
They  are  most  useful  institutions,  and 
may  be  considered  as  natural  highways 
placed,  by  a  kind  Providence,  in  con- 
venient situations  for  getting  over  places 
which  would  otherwise  be  inaccessible. 
They  are  a  joy  to  the  mountaineer,  and, 
from  afar,  assure  him  of  a  path  when  all 
besides  is  uncertain  ;  but  they  are  grief 
to  novices,  who,  when  upon  steep  snow, 
are  usually  seized  with  two  notions — first, 
that  the  snow  will  slip,  and,  secondly, 
that  those  who  are  upon  it  must  slip  too. 

Nothing,  perhaps,  could  look  much 
more  unpromising  to  those  who  do  not 
know  the  virtues  of  couloirs  than  such 
a  place  as  the  engraving  represents, % 
and  if  persons  inexperienced  in  moun- 
tain-craft had  occasion  to  cross  a  ridge 
or  to  climb  rocks  in  which  there  were 
such  couloirs,  they  would  instinctively 
avoid  them.  But  practiced  mountaineers 
would  naturally  look  to  them  for  a  path, 
and  would  follow  them  almost  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  unless  they  turned  out  to 
be  filled  with  ice  or  too  much  swept  by 

\  This  drawing  was  made  to  illustrate  the  remarks 
which  follow.  It  does  not  represent  any  particular 
couloir,  but  it  would  serve,  tolerably  well,  as  a  por- 
trait of  the  one  which  we  ascended  when  crossing  the 
Col  de  Pilatte. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


93 


falling  stones,  or  the  rock  at  the  sides 
proved  to  be  of  such  an  exceptional 
character  as  to  afford  an  easier  path 
than  the  snow. 

Couloirs  look  prodigiously  steep 
when  seen  from  the  front,  and,  so 
viewed,  it  is  impossible  to  be  certain 
of  their  inclination  within  many  de- 
grees. Snow,  however,  does  actu- 
ally lie  at  steeper  angles  in  couloirs 
than  in  any  other  situation  :  forty- 
five  to  fifty  degrees  is  not  an  un- 
common inclination.  Even  at  such 
angles,  two  men  with  proper  axes 
can  mount  on  snow  at  the  rate  of 
seven  hundred  to  eight  hundred  feet 
per  hour.  The  same  amount  can 
only  be  accomplished  in  the  same 
time  on  steep  rocks  when  they  are 
of  the  very  easiest  character,  and 
four  or  rive  hours  may  be  readily 
spent  upon  an  equal  height  of  dif- 
ficult rocks.  Snow  -  couloirs  are 
therefore  to  be  commended  because 
they  economize  time. 

Of  course,  in  all  gullies  one  is 
liable  to  be  encountered  by  falling 
stones.  Most  of  those  which  fall 
from  the  rocks  of  a  couloir  sooner 
or  later  spin  down  the  snow  which 
fills  the  trough,  and  as  their  course 
and  pace  are  more  clearly  apparent 
when  falling  over  snow  than  when 
jumping  from  ledge  to  ledge,  per- 
sons with  lively  imaginations  are 
readily  impressed  by  them.  The 
grooves  which  are  usually  seen  wan- 
dering down  the  length  of  snow- 
couloirs  are  deepened  (and  perhaps 
occasionally  originated)  by  falling 


ly  only  gutters,  caused  by  water  trick- 
ling off  the  rocks.  Whether  this  is  so 
or  not,  one  should  always  consider  the 


stones,  and  they  are 
sometimes  pointed  out  by  cautious  men 
as  reasons  why  couloirs  should  not  be 
followed.  I  think  they  are  very  frequent- 


possibility  of  being  struck 
by  falling  stones,  and,  in  order  to  lessen 
the  risk  as  far  as  possible,  should  mount 
upon  the  sides  of  the  snow  and  not  up 
its  centre.  Stones  that  come  off  the  rocks 
then  fly  over  one's  head  or  bound  down 
the  middle  of  the  trough  at  safe  distance. 


94 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


At  9.30  A.  M.  we  commenced  the  ascent 
of  the  couloir  leading  from  the  nameless 
glacier  to  a  point  in  the  ridge,  just  to  the 
east  of  Mont  Bans.  So  far,  the  route  had 
been  nothing  more  than  a  steep  grind  in 
an  angle  where  little  could  be  seen,  but 
now  views  opened  out  in  several  direc- 
tions, and  the  way  began  to  be  interest- 
ing. It  was  more  so,  perhaps,  to  us  than 
to  our  companion,  M.  Reynaud,  who  had 
no  rest  in  the  last  night.  He  was,  more- 
over, heavily  laden.  Science  was  to  be 
regarded — his  pockets  were  stuffed  with 
books ;  heights  and  angles  were  to  be 
observed — his  knapsack  was  filled  with 
instruments  ;  hunger  was  to  be  guarded 
against — his  shoulders  were  ornamented 
with  a  huge  nimbus  of  bread,  and  a  leg 
of  mutton  swung  behind  from  his  knap- 
sack, looking  like  an  overgrown  tail. 
Like  a  good  -  hearted  fellow,  he  had 
brought  this  food,  thinking  we  might  be 
in  need  of  it.  As  it  happened,  we  were 
well  provided  for,  and,  having  our  own 
packs  to  carry,  could  not  relieve  him  of 
his  superfluous  burdens,  which,  natural- 
ly, he  did  not  like  to  throw  away.  As 
the  angles  steepened  the  strain  on  his 
strength  became  more  and  more  appa- 
rent. At  last  he  began  to  groan.  At 
first  a  most  gentle  and  mellow  groan, 
but  as  we  rose  so  did  his  groans,  till  at 
last  the  cliffs  were  groaning  in  echo  and 
we  were  moved  to  laughter. 

Croz  cut  the  way  with  unflagging  en- 
ergy throughout  the  whole  of  the  ascent, 
and  at  10.45  we  stood  on  the  summit  of 
our  pass,  intending  to  refresh  ourselves 
with  a  good  halt  \  but  just  at  that  mo- 
ment a  mist,  which  had  been  playing 
about  the  ridge,  swooped  down  and 
blotted  out  the  whole  of  the  view  on  the 
northern  side.  Croz  was  the  only  one 
who  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  descent, 
and  it  was  deemed  advisable  to  push  on 
immediately  while  its  recollection  was 
fresh  in  his  memory.  We  are  conse- 
quently unable  to  tell  anything  about 
the  summit  of  the  pass,  except  that  it  lies 
immediately  to  the  east  of  Mont  Bans, 
and  is  elevated  about  eleven  thousand 
three  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea.  It  is  the  highest  pass  in  Dauphine. 
We  called  it  the  Col  de  Pilatte. 


We  commenced  to  descend  toward 
the  Glacier  de  Pilatte  by  a  slope  of 
smooth  ice,  the  face  of  which,  according 
to  the  measurement  of  Mr.  Moore,  had 
an  inclination  of  54°  !  Croz  still  led,  and 
the  others  followed  at  intervals  of  about 
fifteen  feet,  all  being  tied  together,  and 
Aimer  occupying  the  responsible  position 
of  last  man  :  the  two  guides  were  there- 
fore about  seventy  feet  apart.  They 
were  quite  invisible  to  each  other  from 
the  mist,  and  looked  spectral  even  to  us. 
But  the  strong  man  could  be  heard  by 
all  hewing  out  the  steps  below,  while 
every  now  and  then  the  voice  of  the 
steady  man  pierced  the  cloud:  "Slip 
not,  dear  sirs  :  place  well  your  feet :  stir 
not  until  you  are  certain." 

For  three-quarters  of  an  hour  we  pro- 
gressed in  this  fashion.  The  axe  of 
Croz  all  at  once  stopped.  "What  is  the 
matter,  Croz?"  " Bergschrund,  gentle- 
men." "Can  we  get  over?"  "Upon 
my  word,  I  don't  know  :  I  think  we  must 
jump."  The  clouds  rolled  away  right 
and  left  as  he  spoke.  The  effect  was 
dramatic.  It  was  a  coup  de  theatre, 
preparatory  to  the  "great  sensation  leap  " 
which  was  about  to  be  executed  by  the 
entire  company. 

Some  unseen  cause,  some  cliff  or  ob- 
struction in  the  rocks  underneath,  had 
caused  our  wall  of  ice  to  split  into  two 
portions,  and  the  huge  fissure  which  had 
thus  been  formed  extended  on  each  hand 
as  far  as  could  be  seen.  WTe,  on  the 
slope  above,  were  separated  from  the 
slope  below  by  a  mighty  crevasse.  No 
running  up  and  down  to  look  for  an 
easier  place  to  cross  could  be  done  on 
an  ice-slope  of  54°  :  the  chasm  had  to 
be  passed  then  and  there. 

A  downward  jump  of  fifteen  or  six- 
teen feet,  and  a  forward  leap  of  seven 
or  eight  feet,  had  to  be  made  at  the 
same  time.  That  is  not  much,  you  will 
say.  It  was  not  much  :  it  was  not  the 
quantity,  but  it  was  the  quality  of  the 
jump  which  gave  to  it  its  particular 
flavor.  You  had  to  hit  a  narrow  ridge 
of  ice.  If  that  was  passed,  it  seemed 
as  if  you  might  roll  down  for  ever  and 
ever.  If  it  was  not  attained,  you  drop- 
ped into  the  crevasse  below,  which  al- 


"WE  SAW  A  TOE-IT  SEEMED  TO  BELONG  TO  MOORE-WE  SAW  REYNAUD  A  FLYING  BODY." 

Page  95. 


TJIIYIRS    17 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


95 


though  partly  choked  by  icicles  and 
snow  that  had  fallen  from  above,  was 
still  gaping  in  many  places,  ready  to 
receive  an  erratic  body. 

Croz  untied  Walker  in  order  to  get 
rope  enough,  and,  warning  us  to  hold 
fast,  sprang  over  the  chasm.  He  alight- 
ed cleverly  on  his  feet,  untied  himself 
and  sent  up  the  rope  to  Walker,  who 
followed  his  example.  It  was  then  my 
turn,  and  I  advanced  to  the  edge  of  the 
ice.  The  second  which  followed  was 
what  is  called  a  supreme  moment.  That 
is  to  say,  I  felt  supremely  ridiculous. 
The  world  seemed  to  revolve  at  a  fright- 
ful pace  and  my  stomach  to  fly  away. 
The  next  moment  I  found  myself  sprawl- 
ing in  the  snow,  and  then,  of  course, 
vowed  that  it  was  nothing,  and  prepared 
to  encourage  my  friend  Reynaud. 

He  came  to  the  edge  and  made  decla- 
rations. I  do  nipt  believe  that  he  was 
a  whit  more  reluctant  to  pass  the  place 
than  we  others,  but  he  was  infinitely 
more  demonstrative  :  in  a  word,  he  was 
French.  He  wrung  his  hands:  "Oh 
what  a  diable  of  a  place  !"  "  It  is  noth- 
ing, Reynaud,"  I  said,  "it  is  nothing." 
"Jump !"  cried  the  others,  "jump !"  But 
he  turned  round,  as  far  as  one  can  do 
such  a  thing  in  an  ice-step,  and  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands,  ejaculating, 
"  Upon  my  word,  it  is  not  possible.  No, 
no.  no  !  it  is  not  possible." 

How  he  came  over  I  do  not  know. 
We  saw  a  toe — it  seemed  to  belong  to 
Moore  ;  we  saw  Reynaud,  a  flying  body, 
coming  down  as  if  taking  a  header  into 
water,  with  arms  and  legs  all  abroad, 
his  leg  of  mutton  flying  in  the  air,  his 
baton  escaped  from  his  grasp  ;  and  then 
we  heard  a  thud  as  if  a  bundle  of  car- 
pets had  been  pitched  out  of  a  window. 
When  set  upon  his  feet  he  was  a  sorry 
spectacle  :  his  head  was  a  great  snow- 
ball, brand)  was  trickling  out  of  one 
side  of  the  knapsack,  Chartreuse  out  of 
the  other.  We  bemoaned  its  loss,  but 
we  roared  with  laughter. 

I  cannot  close  this  chapter  without 
paying  a  tribute  to  the  ability  with  which 
Croz  led  us  through  a  dense  mist  down 
the  remainder  of  the  Glacier  de  Pilatte. 


As  an  exhibition  of  strength  and  skill  it 
has  probably  never  been  surpassed  in 
the  Alps  or  elsewhere.  On  this  almost 
unknown  and  very  steep  glacier  he  was 
perfectly  at  home,  even  in  the  mists. 
Never  able  to  see  fifty  feet  ahead,  he 
still  went  on  with  the  utmost  certainty 
and  without  having  to  retrace  a  single 
step,  and  displayed  from  first  to  last 
consummate  knowledge  of  the  materials 
with  which  he  was  dealing.  Now  he  cut 
steps  down  one  side  of  a  serac,  went 
with  a  dash  at  the  other  side,  and  hauled 
us  up  after  him  ;  then  cut  away  along  a 
ridge  until  a  point  was  gained  from 
which  we  could  jump  on  to  another 
ridge ;  then,  doubling  back,  found  a 
snow-bridge,  across  which  he  crawled 
on  hands  and  knees,  towed  us  across  by 
the  legs,  ridiculing  our  apprehensions, 
mimicking  our  awkwardness,  declining 
all  help,  bidding  us  only  to  follow  him. 

About  i  p.  M.  .we  emerged  from  the 
mist,  and  found  ourselves  just  arrived 
upon  the  level  portion  of  the  glacier, 
having,  as  Reynaud  properly  remarked, 
come  down  as  quickly  as  if  there  had 
not  been  any  mist  at  all.  Then  we  at- 
tacked the  leg  of  mutton  which  my 
friend  had  so  thoughtfully  brought  with 
him,  and  afterward  raced  down,  with 
renewed  energy,  to  La  Berarde. 

Reynaud  and  I  walked  together  to 
St.  Christophe,  where  we  parted.  Since 
then  we  have  talked  over  the  doings  of 
this  momentous  day,  and  I  know  that 
he  would  not,  for  a  good  deal,  have 
missed  the  passage  of  the  Col  de  Pilatte, 
although  we  failed  to  make  it  an  easier 
or  a  shorter  route  than  the  Col  du  Sele. 
I  rejoined  Moore  and  Walker  the  same 
evening  at  Venos,  and  on  the  next  day 
went  with  them  over  the  Lautaret  road 
to  the  hospice  on  its  summit,  where  we 
slept. 

So  our  little  campaign  in  Dauphine 
came  to  an  end.  It  was  remarkable  for 
the  absence  of  failures,  and  for  the  ease 
and  precision  with  which  all  our  plans 
were  carried  out.  This  was  due  very 
much  to  the  spirit  of  my  companions, 
but  it  was  also  owing  to  the  fine  weather 
which  we  were  fortunate  enough  to  enjoy, 
and  to  our  making  a  very  early  start 


96 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


every  morning.  By  beginning  our  work 
at  or  before  the  break  of  day  on  the 
longest  days  in  the  year,  we  were  not 
only  able  to  avoid  hurrying  when  de- 
liberation was  desirable,  but  could  afford 
to  spend  several  hours  in  delightful  ease 
whenever  the  fancy  seized  us. 

I  cannot  too  strongly  recommend  tour- 
ists in  search  of  amusement  to  avoid 
the  inns  of  Dauphine.  Sleep  in  the 
chalets.  Get  what  food  you  can  from 
the  inns,  but  by  no  means  attempt  to 
pass  a  night  in  them.  Sleep  in  them 
you  cannot.  M.  Joanne  says  that  the 
inventor  of  the  insecticide  powder  was 
a  native  of  Dauphine.  I  can  well  be- 
lieve it.  He  must  have  often  felt  the 
necessity  of  such  an  invention  in  his 
infancy  and  childhood. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

PASSAGE  OF  THE  COL  DE  TRIOLET,  AND 
ASCENTS  OF  MONT  DOLENT,  AIGUILLE  DE 
TRELATETE  AND  AIGUILLE  D'ARGENTIERE. 

TEN  years  ago  very  few  people  knew 
from  personal  knowledge  how  extremely 
inaccurately  the  chain  of  Mont  Blanc 
was  delineated.  During  the  previous 
half  century  thousands  had  made  the 
tour  of  the  chain,  and  in  that  time  at 
least  a  thousand  individuals  had  stood 
upon  its  highest  summit ;  but  out  of  all 
this  number  there  was  not  one  capable, 
willing  or  able  to  map  the  mountain 
which,  until  recently,  was  regarded  as 
the  highest  in  Europe. 

Many  persons  knew  that  great  blun- 
ders had  been  perpetrated,  and  it  was 
notorious  that  even  Mont  Blanc  itself 
was  represented  in  a  ludicrously  incor- 
rect manner  on  all  sides  excepting  the 
north;  but  there  was  not,  perhaps,  a 
single  individual  who  knew,  at  the  time 
to  which  I  refer,  that  errors  of  no  less 
than  one  thousand  feet  had  been  com- 
mitted in  the  determination  of  heights 
at  each  end  of  the  chain,  that  some  gla- 
ciers were  represented  of  double  their 
real  dimensions,  and  that  ridges  and 
mountains  were  laid  down  which  actually 
had  no  existence. 

One  portion  alone  of  the  entire  chain 
had  been  surveyed,  at  the  time  of  which 


I  speak,  with  anything  like  accuracy.  It 
was  not  done  (as  one  would  have  ex- 
pected) by  a  government,  but  by  a  pri- 
vate individual — by  the  British  De  Saus- 
sure,  the  late  J.  D.  Forbes.  In  the  year 
1842  he  "made  a  special  survey  of  the 
Mer  de  Glace  of  Chamounix  and  its 
tributaries,  which  in  some  of  the  follow- 
ing years  he  extended  by  furthei  ob- 
servations, so  as  to  include  the  Glacier 
des  Bossons."  The  map  produced  fror 
this  survey  was  worthy  of  its  author,  and 
subsequent  explorers  of  the  region  he 
investigated  have  been  able  to  detect 
only  trivial  inaccuracies  in  his  work. 

The  district  surveyed  by  Forbes  re- 
mained a  solitary  bright  spot  in  a  region 
where  all  besides  was  darkness  until  the 
year  1861.  Praiseworthy  attempts  were 
made  by  different  hands  to  throw  light 
upon  the  gloom,  but  these  efforts  were 
ineffectual,  and  showed  how  labor  may 
be  thrown  away  by  a  number  of  obser- 
vers working  independently  without  the 
direction  of  a  single  head. 

In  1861,  Sheet  xxii.  of  Dufour's  Map 
of  Switzerland  appeared.  It  included 
the  section  of  the  chain  of  Mont  Blanc 
that  belonged  to  Switzerland,  and  this 
portion  of  the  sheet  was  executed  with 
the  admirable  fidelity  and  thoroughness 
which  characterizes  the  whole  of  Du- 
four's unique  map.  The  remainder  of 
the  chain  (amounting  to  about  four-fifths 
of  the  whole)  Avas  laid  down  after  the 
work  of  previous  topographers,  and  its 
wretchedness  was  made  more  apparent 
by  contrast  with  the  finished  work  of  the 
Swiss  surveyors. 

Strong  hands  were  needed  to  complete 
the  survey,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
the  right  men  appeared. 

In  1863,  Mr.  Adams-Reilly,  who  had 
been  traveling  in  the  Alps  during  sev- 
eral years,  resolved  to  attempt  a  survey 
of  the  unsurveyed  portions  of  the  chain 
of  Mont  Blanc.  He  provided  himself 
with  a  good  theodolite,  and,  starting 
from  a  base-line  measured  by  Forbes  in 
the  valley  of  Chamounix,  determined 
the  positions  of  no  less  than  two  hun- 
dred points.  The  accuracy  of  his  work 
may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that,  after 
having  turned  many  corners  and  carried 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


97 


his  observations  over  a  distance  of  fifty 
miles,  his  Col  Ferret  "fell  within  two 
hundred  yards  of  the  position  assigned 
to  it  by  General  Unfour!" 

In  the  winter  of  1863  and  the  spring 
of  1864,  Mr.  Reilly  constructed  an  en- 
tirely original  map  from  his  newly-ac- 
quired data.  The  spaces  between  his 
trigonometrically-determined  points  he 
filled  in  after  photographs  and  a  series  of 
panoramic  sketches  which  he  made  from 
his  different  stations.  The  map  so  pro- 
duced was  an  immense  advance  upon 
those  already  in  existence,  and  it  was 
the  first  which  exhibited  the  great  peaks 
in  their  proper  positions. 

This  extraordinary  piece  of  work  re- 
vealed Mr.  Reilly  to  me  as  a  man  of 
wonderful  determination  and  persever- 
ance. With  very  small  hope  that  my 
proposal  would  be  accepted,  I  invited 
him  to  take  part  in  renewed  attacks  on 
the  Matterhorn.  He  entered  heartily 
into  my  plans,  and  met  me  with  a  coun- 
ter-proposition— namely,  that  I  should 
accompany  him  on  some  expeditions 
which  he  had  projected  in  the  chain  of 
Mont  Blanc.  The  unwritten  contract 
took  this  form  :  I  will  help  you  to  carry 
out  your  desires,  and  you  shall  assist 
me  to  carry  out  mine.  I  eagerly  closed 
with  an  arrangement  in  which  all  the 
advantages  were  upon  my  side. 

Before  I  pass  on  to  these  expeditions 
it  will  be  convenient  to  devote  a  few 
paragraphs  to  the  topography  of  the 
chain  of  Mont  Blanc. 

At  the  present  time  the  chain  is  di- 
vided betwixt  France,  Switzerland  and 
Italy.  France  has  the  lion's  share, 
Switzerland  the  most  fertile  portion,  and 
Italy  the  steepest  side.  It  has  acquired 
a  reputation  which  is  not  extraordinary, 
but  which  is  not  wholly  merited.  It  has 
neither  the  beauty  of  the  Oberland  nor 
the  sublimity  of  Dauphine.  But  it  at- 
tracts the  vulgar  by  the  possession  of  the 
highest  summit  in  the  Alps.  If  that  is 
removed,  the  elevation  of  the  chain  is 
in  nowise  remarkable.  In  fact,  exclud- 
ing Mont  Blanc  itself,  the  mountains  of 
which  the  chain  is  made  up  are  less  im- 
portant than  those  of  the  Oberland  and 
the  central  Pennine  groups. 

7 


The  ascent  of  Mont  Blanc  has  been 
made  from  several  directions,  and  per- 
haps there  is  no  single  point  of  the  com- 
pass from  which  the  mountain  cannot  be 
ascended.  But  there  is  not  the  least 
probability  that  any  one  will  discover 
easier  ways  to  the  summit  than  those 
already  known. 

I  believe  it  is  correct  to  say  that  the 
Aiguille  du  Midi  and  the  Aiguille  de 
Miage  were  the  only  two  summits  in  the 
chain  of  Mont  Blanc  which  had  been 
ascended  at  the  beginning  of  1864.* 
The  latter  of  these  two  is  a  perfectly  in- 
significant point,  and  the  former  is  only 
a  portion  of  one  of  the  ridges  just  now 
mentioned,  and  can  hardly  be  regard- 
ed as  a  mountain  separate  and  distinct 
from  Mont  Blanc.  The  really  great 
peaks  of  the  chain  were  considered  in- 
accessible, and,  I  think,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  Aiguille  Verte,  had  never 
been  assailed. 

The  finest  as  well  as  the  highest  peak 
in  the  chain  (after  Mont  Blanc  itself)  is 
the  Grandes  Jorasses.  The  next,  with- 
out a  doubt,  is  the  Aiguille  Verte.  The 
Aiguille  de  Bionnassay,  which  in  actual 
height  follows  the  Verte,  should  be  con- 
sidered as  a  part  of  Mont  Blanc  ;  and  in 
the,  same  way  the  summit  called  Les 
Droites  is  only  a  part  of  the  ridge  which 
culminates  in  the  Verte.  The  Aiguille 
de  Trelatete  is  the  next  on  the  list  that 
is  entitled  to  be  considered  a  separate 
mountain,  and  is  by  far  the  most  im- 
portant peak  (as  well  as  the  highest)  at 
the  south-west  end  of  the  chain.  Then 
comes  the  Aiguille  d'Argentiere,  which 
occupies  the  same  rank  at  the  north-east 
end  as  the  last-mentioned  mountain  does 
in  the  south-west.  The  rest  of  the  ai- 
guilles are  comparatively  insignificant; 
and  although  some  of  them  (such  as  the 
Mont  Dolent)  look  well  from  low  eleva- 
tions, and  seem  to  possess  a  certain  im- 
portance, they  sink  into  their  proper 
places  directly  one  arrives  at  a  consid- 
erable altitude. 

The  summit  of  the  Aiguille  Verte  would 
have  been  one  of  the  best  stations  out  of 
all  these  mountains  for  the  purposes  of 
my  friend.  Its  great  height  and  its  iso- 

*  Besides  Mont  Blanc  itself. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


lated  and  commanding  position  make  it 
a  most  admirable  point  for  viewing  the 
intricacies  of  the  chain,  but  he  exercised 
a  wise  discretion  in  passing  it  by,  and  in 
selecting  as  our  first  excursion  the  pas- 
sage of  the  Col  de  Triolet. 

We  slept  under  some  big  rocks  on  the 
Couvercle  on  the  night  of  July  7,  with 
the  thermometer  at  26.5°  Fahr.,  and  at 
4.30  on  the  8th  made  a  straight  track  to 
the  north  of  the  Jardin,  and  thence  went 
in  zigzags,  to  break  the  ascent,  over  the 
upper  slopes  of  the  Glacier  de  Talefre 
toward  the  foot  of  the  Aiguille  de  Trio- 
let. Croz  was  still  my  guide ;  Reilly 
was  accompanied  by  one  of  the  Michel 
Payots  of  Chamounix  ;  and  Henri  Char- 
let,  of  the  same  place,  was  our  porter. 

The  way  was  over  an  undulating  plain 
of  glacier  of  moderate  inclination  until 
the  corner  leading  to  the  col,  from 
whence  a  steep  secondary  glacier  led 
down  into  the  basin  of  the  Talefre.  We 
experienced  no  difficulty  in  making  the 
ascent  of  this  secondary  glacier  with 
such  ice-men  as  Croz  and  Payot,  and  at 
7.50  A.  M.  arrived  on  the  top  of  the  so- 
called  pass,  at  a  height,  according  to 
Mieulet,  of  12,162  feet,  and  4530  above 
our  camp  on  the  Couvercle. 

The  descent  was  commenced  by  very 
steep,  firm  rocks,  and  then  by  a  branch 
of  the  Glacier  de  Triolet.  Schrunds* 
were  abundant :  there  were  no  less  than 
five  extending  completely  across  the 
glacier,  all  of  which  had  to  be  jumped. 
Not  one  was  equal  in  dimensions  to  the 
extraordinary  chasm  on  the  Col  de  Pi- 
latte,  but  in  the  aggregate  they  far  sur- 
passed it.  "Our  lives,"  so  Reilly  ex- 
pressed it,  "were  made  a  burden  to  us 
with  schrunds." 

Several  spurs  run  out  toward  the 
south-east  from  the  ridge  at  the  head  of 
the  Glacier  de  Triolet,  and  divide  it  into 
a  number  of  bays.  We  descended  the 
most  northern  of  these,  and  when  we 
emerged  from  it  on  to  the  open  glacier, 
just  at  the  junction  of  our  bay  with 
the  next  one,  we  came  across  a  most 
beautiful  ice-arch  festooned  with  icicles, 
the  decaying  remnant  of  an  old  serac, 

*  Great  crevasses.  A  bergschrund  is  a  schrund, 
but  something  more. 


which  stood  isolated  full  thirty  feet  above 
the  surface  of  the  glacier !  It  was  an 
accident,  and  I  have  not  seen  its  like 
elsewhere.  When  I  passed  the  spot  in 
1865  no  vestige  of  it  remained. 

We  flattered  ourselves  that  we  should 
arrive  at  the  chalets  of  Pre  du  Bar  very 
early  in  the  day,  but,  owing  to  much 
time  being  lost  on  the  slopes  of  Mont 
Rouge,  it  was  nearly  4  p.  M.  before  we 
got  to  them.  There  were  no  bridges 
across  the  torrent  nearer  than  Gruetta, 
and  rather  than  descend  so  far  we  pre- 
ferred to  round  the  base  of  Mont  Rouge 
and  to  cross  the  snout  of  the  Glacier  du 
Mont  Dolent. 

We  occupied  the  9th  with  the  ascent 
of  the  Mont  Dolent.  This  was  a  minia- 
ture ascent.  It  contained  a  little  of 
everything.  First  we  went  up  to  the 
Col  Ferret  (No.  i),  and  had  a  little  grind 
over  shaly  banks  ;  then  there  was  a  little 
walk  over  grass ;  then  a  little  tramp 
over  a  moraine  (which,  strange  to  say, 
gave  a  pleasant  path) ;  then  a  little  zig- 
zagging over  the  snow-covered  glacier 
of  Mont  Dolent.  Then  there  was  a 
little  bergschrund ;  then  a  little  wall  of 
snow,  which  we  mounted  by  the  side  of 
a  little  buttress ;  and  when  we  struck 
the  ridge  descending  south-east  from 
the  summit,  we  found  a  little  arete  of 
snow  leading  to  the  highest  point.  The 
summit  itself  was  little — very  small  in- 
deed :  it  was  the  loveliest  little  cone  of 
snow  that  was  ever  piled  up  on  moun- 
tain-top ;  so  soft,  so  pure,  it  seemed  a 
crime  to  defile  it.  It  was  a  miniature 
Jungfrau,  a  toy  summit :  you  could  cover 
it  with  the  hand. 

But  there  was  nothing  little  about  the 
view  from  the  Mont  Dolent.  [Situated 
at  the  junction  of  three  mountain-ridges, 
it  rises  in  a  positive  steeple  far  above 
anything  in  its  immediate  neighborhood, 
and  certain  gaps  in  the  surrounding 
ridges,  which  seem  contrived  for  that 
especial  purpose,  extend  the  view  in 
almost  every  direction.  The  precipices 
which  descend  to  the  Glacier  d'Argen- 
tiere  I  can  only  compare  to  those  of  the 
Jungfrau,  and  the  ridges  on  both  sides 
of  that  glacier,  especially  the  steep  rocks 
of  Les  Droites  and  Les  Courtes,  sur- 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


99 


mounted  by  the  sharp  snow-peak  of  the 
Aiguille  Verte,  have  almost  the  effect  of 
the  Grandes  Jorasses.  Then,  framed  as 
it  were  between  the  massive  tower  of  the 
Aiguille  de  Triolet  and  the  more  distant 
Jorasses,  lies,  without  exception,  the  most 
delicately  beautiful  picture  I  have  ever 
seen — the  whole  massif  of  Mont  .Blanc, 
raising  its  great  head  of  snow  far  above 
the  tangled  series  of  flying  buttresses 
which  uphold  the  Monts  Maudits,  sup- 
ported on  the  left  by  Mont  Peuteret  and 
by  the  mass  of  ragged  aiguilles  which 
overhangs  the  Brenva.  This  aspect  of 
Mont  Blanc  is  not  new,  but  from  this 
point  its  pose  is  unrivaled,  and  it  has  all 
the  superiority  of  a  picture  grouped  by 
the  hand  of  a  master.  .  .  .  The  view  is 
as  extensive  as,  and  far  more  lovely 
than,  that  from  Mont  Blanc  itself.]  * 

We  went  down  to  Cormayeur,  and  on 
the  afternoon  of  July  10  started  from 
that  place  to  camp  on  Mont  Sue,  for  the 
ascent  of  the  Aiguille  de  Trelatete,  hope- 
ful that  the  mists  which  were  hanging 
about  would  clear  away.  They  did  not, 
so  we  deposited  ourselves  and  a  vast 
load  of  straw  on  the  moraine  of  the  Miage 
Glacier,  just  above  the  Lac  de  Combal, 
in  a  charming  little  hole  which  some 
solitary  shepherd  had  excavated  beneath 
a  great  slab  of  rock.  We  spent  the  night 
there  and  the  whole  of  the  next  day,  un- 
willing to  run  away,  and  equally  so  to 
get  into  difficulties  by  venturing  into  the 
mist.  It  was  a  dull  time,  and  I  grew 
restless.  Reilly  read  to  me  a  lecture  on 
the  excellence  of  patience,  and  composed 
himself  in  an  easy  attitude  to  pore  over 
the  pages  of  a  yellow-covered  book. 
"Patience,"  I  said  to  him  viciously,. 
"  comes  very  easy  to  fellows  who  have 
shilling  novels,  but  I  have  not  got  one. 
I  have  picked  all  the  mud  out  of  the 
nails  of  my  boots,  and  have  skinned  my 
face  :  what  shall  I  do  ?"  "  Go  and  study 
the  moraine  of  the  Miage,"  said  he.  I 
went,  and  came  back  after  an  hour. 
"  What  news  ?"  cried  Reilly,  raising  him- 
self on  his  elbow.  "Very  little:  it's  a 
big  moraine,  bigger  than  I  thought,  with 
ridge  outside  ridge,  like  a  fortified  camp ; 

*  The  bracketed  paragraphs  in  this  chapter  are  ex- 
tracted from  the  notes  of  Mr.  Reilly. 


and  there-  are  walls  upon  it  which  have 
been  built  and  loopholed,  as  if  for  de- 
fence." "Try  again,"  he  said  as  he  threw 
himself  o  n 
his  back. 
But  I  went 
to  Croz,  who 
was  asleep, 
and  tickled 
his  nose  with 
a  straw  until 
he  awoke; 
and  then,  as  that  amusement  was  play- 
ed out,  watched  Reilly,  who  was  getting 
numbed, 
and  shifted 
u  n  e  a  s  i  1  y 
from  side  to 
side,  and 
threw  him- 
self on  his 
stomach, 
and  rested, 
his  head  on  his  elbows,  and  lighted  his 
pipe  and  puffed  at  it  savagely.  When 
I  looked 
again,  how 
was  Reilly  ? 
An  indistin- 
g  u  i  s  h  a  b  1  e 
heap — arms, 
legs,  head, 
stones  and  straw,  all  mixed  together,  his 
hat  flung  on  one  side,  his  novel  tossed 
far  away! 
Then  I  went 
to  him  and 
read  him  a 
lecture  on 
the  excel- 
lence  of  pa- 
tience. 

Bah  !  it  was  a  dull  time.     Our  moun- 
tain,   like   a   beautiful   coquette,    some- 
times unveil- 
ed herself 
f  o  r    a    mo- 
rn e  n  t    and 
looked 
charm  i  ng 
above,   al- 
though very  mysterious  below.     It  was 
not  until  eventide  she  allowed  us  to  ap- 
proach her:  then,  as  darkness  came  on, 


IOO 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


the  curtains  were  withdrawn,  the  light 
drapery  was  lifted,  and  we  stole  up  on 
tiptoe  through  the  grand  portal  framed 
by  Mont  Sue.  But  night  advanced  rap- 
idly, and  we  found  ourselves  left  out  in 
the  cold,  without  a  hole  to  creep  into  or 
shelter  from  overhanging  rock.  We 
might  have  fared  badly  except  for  our 
good  plaids.  But  when  they  were  sewn 
together  down  their  long  edges,  and  one 
end  tossed  over  our  rope  (which  was 
passed  round  some  rocks),  and  the  other 
secured  by  stones,  there  was  sufficient 


protection ;  and  we  slept  on  this  exposed 
ridge,  ninety-seven  hundred  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea,  more  soundly  per- 
haps than  if  we  had  been  lying  on  feather 
beds. 

We  left  our  bivouac  at  4.45  A.  M.,  and 
at  9.40  arrived  upon  the  highest  of  the 
three  summits  of  the  Trelatete  by  pass- 
ing over  the  lowest  one.  It  was  well 
above  everything  at  this  end  of  the 
chain,  and  the  view  from  it  was  extra- 
ordinarily magnificent.  The  whole  of 
the  western  face  of  Mont  Blanc  was 


OUK    CAMP   UN    MONT   SUC. 


spread  out  before  us  :  we  were  the  first 
by  whom  it  had  been  ever  seen.  I  cede 
the  description  of  this  view  to  my  com- 
rade, to  whom  it  rightfully  belongs. 

[For  four  years  I  had  felt  great  interest 
in  the  geography  of  the  chain  :  the  year 
before  1  had  mapped,  more  or  less  suc- 
cessfully, all  but  this  spot,  and  this  spot 
had  always  eluded  my  grasp.  The 
praises,  undeserved  as  they  were,  which 
my  map  had  received,  were  as  gall  and 
wormwood  to  me  when  I  thought  of  that 
great  slope  which  I  had  been  obliged  to 
leave  a  blank,  speckled  over  with  un- 
meaning dots  of  rock,  gathered  from 


previous  maps,  for  I  had  consulted  them 
all  without  meeting  an  intelligible  repre- 
sentation of  it.  From  the  surface  of  the 
Miage  glacier  I  had  gained  nothing,  for 
I  could  only  see  the  feet  of  magnificent 
ice-streams,  but  no  more  ;  but  now,  from 
the  top  of  the  dead  wall  of  rock  which 
had  so  long  closed  my  view,  I  saw  those 
fine  glaciers  from  top  to  bottom,  pouring 
down  their  streams,  nearly  as  large  as 
the  Bossons,  from  Mont  Blanc,  from  the 
Bosse  and  from  the  Dome. 

The  head  of  Mont  Blanc  is  supported 
on  this  side  by  two  buttresses,  between 
which  vast  glaciers  descend.  Of  these 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS^fX 


lor 


the  most  southern  takes  its  rise  at  the 
foot  of  the  precipices  which  fall  steeply 
down  from  the  Calotte,*  and  its  stream, 
as  it  joins  that  of  the  Miage,  is  cut  in 
two  by  an  enormous  rognon  of  rock. 
Next,  to  the  left,  comes  the  largest  of 
the  buttresses  of  which  I  have  spoken, 
almost  forming  an  aiguille  in  itself.  The 
next  glacier  (Glacier  du  Dome)  descends 
from  a  large  basin  which  receives  the 
snows  of  the  summit-ridge  between  the 
Bosse  and  the  Dome,  and  it  is  divided 
from  the  third  and  last  glacier  by  an- 
other buttress,  which  joins  the  summit- 
ridge  at  a  point  between  the  Dome  and 
the  Aiguille  de  Bionnassay.J 

The  great  buttresses  betwixt  these 
magnificent  ice-streams  have  supplied  a 
large  portion  of  the  enormous  masses  of 
debris  which  are  disposed  in  ridges  round 
about,  and  are  strewn  over,  the  termina- 
tion of  the  Glacier  de  Miage  in  the  Val 
Yeni.  These  moraines  f  used  to  be 
classed  amongst  the  wonders  of  the 
world.  They  are  very  large  for  a  gla- 
cier of  the  size  of  the  Miage. 

The  dimensions  of  moraines  are  not 
ruled  by  those  of  glaciers.  Many  small 
glaciers  have  large  moraines,  and  many 
large  ones  have  small  moraines.  The 
size  of  the  moraines  of  any  glacier  de- 
pends mainly  upon  the  area  of  rock- 
surface  that  is  exposed  to  atmospheric 
influences  within  the  basin  drained  by 
the  glacier,  upon  the  nature  of  such 
rock,  whether  it  is  friable  or  resistant, 
and  upon  the  dip  of  strata.  Moraines 
most  likely  will  be  small  if  little  rock- 
surface  is  exposed  ;  but  when  large  ones 
-een,  then,  in  all  probability,  large 
-  of  rock,  uncovered  by  snow  or 
ill  be  found  in  immediate  contiguity 
to  the  glacier.  The  Miage  glacier  has 
large  ones,  because  it  receives  detritus 
from  many  great  cliffs  and  ridges.  But 
if  this  glacier,  instead  of  lying,  as  it 
does,  at  the  bottom  of  a  trough,  were  to 

*  The  Calotte  is  the  name  given  to  the  dome  of 
biiow  at  the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc. 

f  1  do  not  know  the  origin  of  the  term  moraine. 
De  Saussure  says  (vol.  i.  p.  380,  $  536),  "The  peas- 
ants of  Chamounix  call  these  heaps  of  debris  the 
moraine  of  the  glacier."  It  may  be  inferred  from 
this  that  the  term  was  a  local  one,  peculiar  to  Cha- 
mounix. 


fill  that  trough,  if  it  were  to  completely 
envelop  the  Aiguille  de  Trelatete  and 
the  other  mountains  which  border  it,  and 
were  to  descend  from  Mont  Blanc  un- 
broken by  rock  or  ridge,  it  would  be  as 
destitute  of  morainic  matter  as  the  great 
Mer  de  Glace  of  Greenland.  For  if  a 
country  or  district  is  completely  covered 
up  by  glacier,  the  moraines  may  be  of 
the  very  smallest  dimensions. 

The  contributions  that  are  supplied  to 
moraines  by  glaciers  themselves,  from 
the  abrasion  of  the  rocks  over  which 
their  ice  passes,  are  minute  compared 
with  the  accumulations  which  arc  fur- 
nished from  other  sources.  These  great 
rubbish-heaps  are  formed — one  may  say 
almost  entirely — from  debris  which  falls 
or  is  washed  down  the  flanks  of  moun- 
tains, or  from  cliffs  bordering  glaciers ; 
and  are  composed,  to  a  very  limited 
extent  only,  of  matter  that  is  ground, 
rasped  or  filed  off  by  the  friction  of  the 
ice. 

If  the  contrary  view  were  to  be  adopt- 
ed, if  it  could  be  maintained  that  "gla- 
ciers, by  their  motion,  break  off  masses 
of  rock  from  the  sides  and  bottoms  of 
their  valley-courses,  and  crowd  along 
everything  that  is  movable,  so  as  to 
form  large  accumulations  of  debris  in 
front  and  along  their  sides,"  J  the  con- 
clusion could  not  be  resisted,  the  greater 
the  glacier  the  greater  should  be  the 
moraine. 

This  doctrine  does  not  find  much 
favor  with  those  who  have  personal 
knowledge  of  what  glaciers  do  at  the 
present  time.  From  De  Sau ss lire  ? 
downward  it  has  been  pointed  out,  time 
after  time,  that  moraines  are  chiefly 
formed  from  debris  coming  from  rocks 
or  soil  above  the  ice,  not  from  the  bed 
over  which  it  passes.  But  amongst  the 
writings  of  modern  speculators  upon 
glaciers  and  glacier-action  in  bygone 
times  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find  the 

J  At '/as  of  Physical  Geography,  by  Augustus  Pe- 
terinan  and  the  Rev.  T.  Milner.  The  italics  are  not 
in  the  original. 

#"The  stones  that  are  found  upon  the  upper  ex- 
tremities of  glaciers  are  of  the  same  nature  as  the 
mountains  which  rise  above  ;  but,  as  the  ice  carries 
them  down  into  the  valleys,  they  arrive  between  rocks 
of  a  totally  different  nature  from  their  own." — I>H 
SAUSSUKE,  %  536 


IO2 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


notions  entertained  that  moraines  repre- 
sent the  amount  of  excavation  (such  is 
the  term  employed)  performed  by  gla- 
ciers, or  at  least  are  comprised  of  matter 
which  has  been  excavated  by  glaciers; 
that  vast  moraines  have  necessarily  been 
produced  by  vast  glaciers;  and  that  a 
great  extension  of  glaciers— a  glacial 
period — necessarily  causes  the  produc- 
tion of  vast  moraines.  It  is  needless  to 
cite  more  than  one  or  two  examples  to 
show  that  such  generalizations  cannot 
be  sustained.  Innumerable  illustrations 
might  be  quoted. 

In  the  chain  of  Mont  Blanc  one  may 
compare  the  moraines  of  the  Miage  with 
those  of  the  Glacier  d'Argentiere.  The 
latter  glacier  drains  a  basin  equal  to  or 
exceeding  that  of  the  former,  but  its 
moraines  are  small  compared  with  those 
of  the  former.  More  notable  still  is  the 
disparity  of  the  moraines  of  the  Corner 
glacier  (that  which  receives  so  many 
branches  from  the  neighborhood  of 
Monte  Rosa)  and  of  the  Z'Muttgletscher. 
The  area  drained  by  the  Corner  greatly 
exceeds  the  basin  of  the  Z'Mutt,  yet  the 
moraines  of  the  Z'Mutt  are  incomparably 
larger  than  those  of  the  Corner.  No 
one  is  likely  to  say  that  the  Z'Mutt  and 
Miage  glaciers  have  existed  for  a  far 
greater  length  of  time  than  the  other  , 
pair :  an  explanation  must  be  sought 
amongst  the  causes  to  which  reference 
has  been  made. 

More  striking  still  is  it  to  see  the  great 
interior  Mer  de  Glace  of  Greenland 
almost  without  moraines.  This  vast  ice- 
plateau,  although  smaller  than  it  was  in 
former  times,  is  still  so  extensive  that 
the  whole  of  the  glaciers  of  the  Alps 
might  be  merged  into  it  without  its  bulk 
being  perceptibly  increased.  If  the  size 
of  moraines  bore  any  sort  of  relation 
to  the  size  of  glaciers,  the  moraines  of 
Greenland  should  be  far  greater  than 
those  of  the  Alps. 

This  interior  ice-reservoir  of  Green- 
land, enormous  as  it  is,  must  be  con- 
sidered as  but  the  remnant  of  a  mass 
which  was  incalculably  greater,  and 
which  is  unparalleled  at  the  present  time 
cftttside  the  Antarctic  Circle.  With  the 
exception  of  localities  where  the  rocks 


are  easy  of  disintegration,  and  the  traces 
of  glacier-action  have  been  to  a  great 
extent  destroyed,  the  whole  country 
bears  the  marks  of  the  grinding  and 
polishing  of  ice ;  and,  judging  by  the 
flatness  of  the  curves  of  the  roches  nion- 
tonnees,  and  by  the  perfection  of  the 
polish  which  still  remains  upon  the  rocks 
after  they  have  sustained  (through  many 
centuries)  extreme  variations  of  tem- 
perature, the  period  during  which  such 
effects  were  produced  must  have  widely 
exceeded  in  duration  the  "glacial  pe- 
riod" of  Europe.  If  moraines  were 
built  from  matter  excavated  by  glaciers, 
the  moraines  of  Greenland  should  be 
the  greatest  in  the  world  ! 

The  absence  of  moraines  upon  and  at 
the  termination  of  this  great  Mer  de 
Glace  is  due  to  the  want  of  rocks  rising 
above  the  ice.*  On  two  occasions  in 
1867  I  saw,  at  a  glance,  at  least  six  hun- 
dred square  miles  of  it  from  the  summits 
of  small  mountains  on  its  outskirts.  Not 
a  single  peak  or  ridge  was  to  be  seen 
rising  above,  nor  a  single  rock  reposing 
upon,  the  ice.  The  country  was  com- 
pletely covered  up  by  glacier :  all  was 
ice  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.f 

There  is  evidence,  then,  that  consid- 
erable areas  of  exposed  rock-surface  are 
essential  to  the  production  of  large  mo- 
raines, and  that  glacial  periods  do  not 
necessarily  produce  vast  moraines — that 
moraines  are  not  built  up  of  matter 
which  is  excavated  by  glaciers,  but  sim- 
ply illustrate  the  powers  of  glaciers  for 
transportation  and  arrangement. 

We  descended  in  our  track  to  the  Lac 
de  Combal,  and  from  thence  went  over 
the  Col  de  la  Seigne  to  Les  Motets,  where 
we  slept :  on  July  13  crossed  the  Col  du 
Mont  Tondu  to  Contamines  (in  a  sharp 
thunderstorm),  and  the  Col  de  Voza  to 

*  I  refer  to  those  portions  of  it  which  I  have  seen 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Disco  Bay.  There  are  mo- 
raines in  this  district,  but  they  were  formed  when  the 
great  Mer  de  Glace  stretched  nearer  to  the  sea — when 
it  sent  arms  down  through  the  valleys  in  the  belt  of 
land  which  now  intervenes  between  sea  and  glacier. 

f  The  interior  of  Greenland  appears  to  be  absolute- 
ly covered  by  glacier  between  68°  30'  and  70°  N.  lat. 
Others  speak  of  peaks  peeping  through  the  ice  to  the 
north  and  south  of  this  district,  but  I  suspect  that 
these  peaks  are  upon  the  outskirts  of  the  great  Met 
de  Glace 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


103 


Chamounix.  Two  days  only  remained 
for  excursions  in  this  neighborhood,  and 
we  resolved  to  employ  them  in  another 
attempt  to  ascend  the  Aiguille  d'Argen- 
tiere,  upon  which  mountain  we  had  been 
cruelly  defeated  just  eight  days  before. 

It  happened  in  this  way  :  Reilly  had 
a  notion  that  the  ascent  of  the  aiguille 
could  be  accomplished  by  following  the 
ridge  leading  to  its  summit  from  the  Col 
du  Chardonnet.  At  half-past  six  on  the 
morning  of  the  6th  we  found  ourselves 
accordingly  on  the  top  of  that  pass, 
which  is  about  eleven  thousand  or  elev- 
en thousand  one  hundred  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea.  The  party  consisted 
of  our  friend  Moore  and  his  guide  Aimer, 
Reilly  and  his  guide  Francois  Cputtet, 
myself  and  Michel  Croz.  So  far,  the 
weather  had  been  calm  and  the  way 
easy,  but  immediately  we  arrived  on  the 
summit  of  the  pass  we  got  into  a  furious 
wind.  Five  minutes  earlier  we  were 
warm — now  we  were  frozen.  Fine  snow, 
whirled  up  into  the  air,  penetrated  every 
crack  in  our  harness,  and  assailed-our 
skins  as  painfully  as  if  it  had  been  red 
hot  instead  of  freezing  cold.  The  teeth 
chattered  involuntarily  ;  talking  was  la- 
borious ;  the  breath  froze  instantaneous- 
ly ;  eating  was  disagreeable  ;  sitting  was 
impossible. 

We  looked  toward  our  mountain  :  its 
aspect  was  not  encouraging.  The  ridge 
that  led  upward  had  a  spiked  arete, 
palisaded  with  miniature  aiguilles,  bank- 
ed up  at  their  bases  by  heavy  snow-beds, 
which  led  down  at  considerable  angles, 
on  one  side  toward  the  Glacier  de  Sa- 
leinoz,  on  the  other  toward  the  Glacier 
du  Chardonnet.  Under  any  circum- 
stances it  would  have  been  a  stiff  piece 
of  work  to  clamber  up  that  way.  Pru- 
dence and  comfort  counseled,  "Give  it 
up."  Discretion  overruled  valor.  Moore 
and  Aimer  crossed  the  Col  du  Chardon- 
net to  go  to  Orsieres,  and  we  others  re- 
turned toward  Chamounix. 

But  when  we  got  some  distance  down, 
the  evil  spirit  which  prompts  men  to  as- 
cend mountains  tempted  us  to  stop  and 
to  look  back  at  the  Aiguille  d'Argentiere. 
The  sky  was  cloudless ;  no  wind  could 
be  felt,  nor  sign  of  it  perceived ;  it  was 


only  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning ;  and 
there,  right  before  us,  we  saw  another 
branch  of  the  glacier  leading  high  up 
into  the  mountain — far  above  the  Col  du 
Chardonnet — and  a  little  couloir  rising 
from  its  head  almost  to  the  top  of  the 
peak.  This  was  clearly  the  right  route 
to  take.  We  turned  back  and  went  at  it. 

The  glacier  was  steep,  and  the  snow- 
gully  rising  out  of  it  was  steeper.  Seven 
hundred  steps  were  cut.  Then  the  cou- 
loir became  too  steep.  We  took  to  the 
rocks  on  its  left,  and  at  last  gained  the 
ridge,  at  a  point  about  fifteen  hundred 
feet  above  the  col.  We  faced  about  to 
the  right  and  went  along  the  ridge, 
keeping  on  some  snow  a  little  below  its 
crest,  on  the  Saleinoz  side.  Then  we 
got  the  wind  again,  but  no  one  thought 
of  turning,  for  we  were  within  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  of  the  summit. 

The  axes  of  Croz  and  Couttet  went  to 
work  once  more,  for  the  slope  was  about 
as  steep  as  snow  could  be.  Its  surface 
was  covered  with  a  loose,  granular  crust, 
dry  and  utterly  incoherent,  which  slip- 
ped away  in  streaks  directly  it  was  med- 
dled with.  The  men  had  to  cut  through 
this  into  the  old  beds  underneath,  and 
to  pause  incessantly  to  rake  away  the 
powdery  stuff,  which  poured  down  in 
hissing  streams  over  the  hard  substra- 
tum. Ugh  !  how  cold  it  was  !  How  the 
wind  blew  !  Couttet's  hat  was  torn  from 
its  fastenings  and  went  on  a  tour  in 
Switzerland.  The  flour-like  snow,  swept 
off  the  ridge  above,  was  tossed  spirally 
upward,  eddying  in  toitrmentes,  then, 
dropped  in  lulls  or  caught  by  other 
gusts,  was  flung  far  and  wide  to  feed  the 
Saleinoz. 

"My  feet  are  getting  suspiciously 
numbed,"  cried  Reilly  :  "how  about 
frost-bites  ?"  "Kick  hard,  sir,"  shouted 
the  men:  "it's  the  only  way."  Their 
fingers  were  kept  alive  by  their  work, 
but  it  was  cold  for  their  feet,  and  they 
kicked  and  hewed  simultaneously.  I 
followed  their  example,  but  was  too  vio- 
lent, and  made  a  hole  clean  through  my 
footing.  A  clatter  followed  as  if  crock- 
ery had  been  thrown  down  a  well. 

1  went  down  a  step  or  two,  and  dis- 
covered in  a  second  that  all  were  stand- 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


ing  over  a  cavern  (not  a  crevasse,  speak- 
ing properly)  that  was  bridged  over  by 
a  thin  vault  of  ice,  from  which  great 
icicles  hung  in  grooves.  Almost  in  the 
same  minute  Reilly  pushed  one  of  his 
hands  right  through  the  roof.  The  whole 
party  might  have  tumbled  through  at 
any  moment.  "  Go  ahead,  Croz  :  we  are 
over  a  chasm!"  "We  know  it,"  he 
answered,  "and  we  can't  find  a  firm 
place." 

In  the  blandest  manner  my  comrade 
inquired  if  to  persevere  would  not  be  to 
do  that  which  is  called  "tempting  Prov- 
idence." My  reply  being  in  the  affirma- 
tive, he  further  observed,  "  Suppose  we 
go  down?"  "Very  willingly."  "Ask 
the  guides."  They  had  not  the  least 
objection  ;  so  we  went  down,  and  slept 
that  night  at  the  Montanvert. 

Off  the  ridge  we  were  out  of  the  wind. 
In  fact,  a  hundred  feet  down  to  wind- 
ward, on  the  slope  fronting  the  Glacier 
du  Chardonnet,  we  were  broiling  hot : 
there  was  not  a  suspicion  of  a  breeze. 
Upon  that  side  there  was  nothing  to  tell 
that  a  hurricane  was  raging  a  hundred 
feet  higher ;  the  cloudless  sky  looked 
tranquillity  itself;  whilst  to  leeward  the 
only  sign  of  a  disturbed  atmosphere  was 
the  friskiness  of  the  snow  upon  the  crests 
of  the  ridges. 

We  set  out  on  the  I4th,  with  Croz, 
Payot  and  Charlet,  to  finish  off  the  work 
which  had  been  cut  short  so  abruptly, 
and  slept,  as  before,  at  the  Chalets  de 
Lognan.  On  the  I5th,  about  midday, 
we  arrived  upon  the  summit  of  the 
aiguille,  and  found  that  we  had  actually 
been  within  one  hundred  feet  of  it  when 
we  turned  back  upon  the  first  attempt. 

It  was  a  triumph  to  Reilly.  In  this 
neighborhood  he  had  performed  the  feat 
(in  1863)  of  joining  together  "two  moun- 
tains,' each  about  thirteen  thousand  feet 
high,  standing  on  the  map  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  apart."  Long  before  we 
made  the  ascent  he  had  procured  evi- 
dence which  could  not  be  impugned 
that  the  Pointe  des  Plines,  a  fictitious 
summit  which  had  figured  on  other 


maps  as  a  distinct  mountain,  could  be 
no  other  than  the  Aiguille  d'Argentiere, 
and  he  had  accordingly  obliterated  it 
from  the  preliminary  draft  of  his  map. 
We  saw  that  it  was  right  to  do  so.  The 
Pointe  des  Plines  did  not  exist.  We  had 
ocular  demonstration  of  the  accuracy  of 
his  previous  observations. 

I  do  not  know  which  to  admire  most, 
the  fidelity  of  Mr.  Reilly's  map  or  the 
indefatigable  industry  by  which  the  ma- 
terials were  accumulated  from  which  it 
was  constructed.  To  men  who  are  sound 
in  limb  it  may  be  amusing  to  arrive  on 
a  summit  (as  we  did  upon  the  top  of 
Mont  Dolent),  sitting  astride  a  ridge  too 
narrow  to  stand  upon,  or  to  do  battle 
with  a  ferocious  wind  (as  we  did  on  the 
top  of  the  Aiguille  de  Trelatete),  or  to 
feel  half  frozen  in  midsummer  (as  we 
did  on  the  Aiguille  d'Argentiere).  But 
there  is  extremely  little  amusement  in 
making  sketches  and  notes  under  such 
conditions.  Yet  upon  all  these  expedi- 
tions, under  the  most  adverse  circum- 
stances and  in  the  most  trying  situations, 
Mr.  Reilly's  brain  and  fingers  were  al- 
ways at  work.  Throughout  all  he  was 
ever  alike — the  same  genial,  equable- 
tempered  companion,  whether  victorious 
or  whether  defeated ;  always  ready  to 
sacrifice  his  own  desires  to  suit  our  com- 
fort and  convenience.  By  a  most  hap- 
py union  of  audacity  and  prudence, 
combined  with  untiring  perseverance,  he 
eventually  completed  his  self-imposed 
task — a  work  which  would  have  been 
intolerable  except  as  a  labor  of  love, 
and  which,  for  a  single  individual,  may 
wellnigh  be  termed  herculean. 

We  separated  upon  the  level  part  of 
the  Glacier  d'Argentiere,  Reilly  going 
with  Payot  and  Charlet  via  the  chalets 
of  Lognan  and  de  la  Pendant,  whilst  I, 
with  Croz,  followed  the  right  bank  of  the 
glacier  to  the  village  of  Argentiere.  At 
7  P.  M.  we  entered  the  humble  inn,  and 
ten  minutes  afterward  heard  the  echoes 
of  the  cannon  which  were  fired  upon 
the  arrival  of  our  comrades  at  Cha- 


'VII. 


CHAPTER   XII. 
MOM  ING    PASS — ZERMATT. 

ON  July  10,  Croz  and  I  went  to  Sierre, 
in  the  Valais,  via  the  Col  de  Balme, 
the  Col  de  la  Forclaz  and  Martigny.  The 
Swiss  side  of  the  Forclaz  is  not  creditable 
to  Switzerland.  The  path  from  Martigny 
to  the  summit  has  undergone  successive 
improvements  in  these  latter  years,  but 
mendicants  permanently  disfigure  it. 

We  passed  many  tired  pedestrians  toil- 
ing up  this  oven,  persecuted  by  trains  of 
parasitic  children.  These  children  swarm 
there  like  maggots  in  a  rotten  cheese. 
They  carry  baskets  of  fruit  with  which 
to  plague  the  weary  tourist.  They  flit 
around  him  like  flies;  they  thrust  the 
fruit  in  his  face  ;  they  pester  him  with 
their  pertinacity.  Beware  of  them  ! — 
taste,  touch  not  their  fruit.  In  the  eyes 
of  these  children  each  peach,  each  grape, 
is  worth  a  prince's  ransom.  It  is  of  no 
use  to  be  angry  :  it  is  like  flapping  wasps 
—  they  only  buzz  the  more.  What- 
ever you  do  or  whatever  you  say,  the 
end  will  be  the  same.  "  Give  me  some- 
thing "  is  the  alpha  and  omega  of  all 
their  addresses.  They  learn  the  phrase, 
it  is  said,  before  they  are  taught  the 
alphabet.  It  is  in  all  their  mouths. 
From  the  tiny  toddler  up  to  the  maiden 


of  sixteen,  there  is  nothing  heard  but 
one  universal  chorus  of  "Give  me  some- 
thing :  will  you  have  the  goodness  to 
give  me  something?" 

From  Sierre  we  went  up  the  Val  d'An- 
niviers  to  Zinal,  to  join  our  former  com- 
panions, Moore  and  Aimer.  Moore  was 
ambitious  to  discover  a  shorter  way  from 
Zinal  to  Zermatt  than  the  two  passes 
which  were  known.*  He  had  shown  to 
me,  upon  Dufour's  map,  that  a  direct 
line  connecting  the  two  places  passed 
exactly  over  the  depression  between  the 
Zinal-Rothhorn  and  the  Schallhorn.  He 
was  confident  that  a  passage  could  be 
effected  over  this  depression,  and  was 
sanguine  that  it  would  (in  consequence 
of  its  directness)  prove  to  be  a  quicker 
route  than  the  circuitous  ones  over  the 
Triftjoch  and  the  Col  Durand. 

He  was  awaiting  us,  and  we  immedi- 
ately proceeded  up  the  valley  and  across 
the  foot  of  the  Zinal  glacier  to  the  Ar- 
pitetta  Alp,  where  a  chalet  was  supposed 
to  exist  in  which  we  might  pass  the  night. 
We  found  it  at  length,!  but  it  was  not 

*The  Col  de  Zinal  or  Triftjoch,  between  the  Trift- 
horn  and  the  Ober  Gabelhorn,  and  the  Col  Durand, 
between  the  last-mentioned  mountain  and  the  Dent 
Blanche. 

f  High  above  the  Glacier  de  Morning  at  the  foot  of 
the  Crete  de  Milton. 

105 


io6 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


equal  to  our  expectations.  It  was  not 
one  of  those  fine  timbered  chalets  with 
huge  overhanging  eaves,  covered  with 
pious  sentences  carved  in  unintelligible 
characters.  It  was  a  hovel,  growing,  as 
it  were,  out  of  the  hillside,  roofed  with 
rough  slabs  of  slaty  stone,  without  door 
or  window,  surrounded  by  quagmires  of 
ordure  and  dirt  of  every  description. 

A  foul  native  invited  us  to  enter.  The 
interior  was  dark,  but  when  our  eyes 
became  accustomed  to  the  gloom  we 
saw  that  our  palace  was  in  plan  about 
fifteen  by  twenty  feet :  on  one  side  it 
was  scarcely  five  feet  high,  but  on  the 
other  was  nearly  seven.  On  this  side 
there  was  a  raised  platform  about  six 
feet  wide,  littered  with  dirty  straw  and 
still  dirtier  sheepskins.  This  was  the 
bed-room.  The  remainder  of  the  width 
of  the  apartment  was  the  parlor.  The 
rest  was  the  factory.  Cheese  was  the 
article  which  was  being  fabricated,  and 
the  foul  native  was  engaged  in  its  manu- 
facture. He  was  garnished  behind  with 
a  regular  cowherd's  one-legged  stool, 
which  gave  him  a  queer,  uncanny  look 
when  it  was  elevated  in  the  air  as  he 
bent  over  into  his  tub,  for  the'  making 
of  his  cheese  required  him  to  blow  into 
a  tub  for  ten  minutes  at  a  time.  He 
then  squatted  on  his  stool  to  gain  breath, 
and  took  a  few  whiffs  at  a  short  pipe, 
after  which  he  blew  away  more  vigor- 
ously than  before.  We  were  told  that 
this  procedure  was  necessary  :  it  appear- 
ed to  us  to  be  nasty.  It  accounts,  per- 
haps, for  the  flavor  possessed  by  certain 
Swiss  cheeses. 

Big  black  and  leaden-colored  clouds 
rolled  up  from  Zinal,  and  met  in  combat 
on  the  Morning  glacier  with  others  which 
descended  from  the  Rothhorn.  Down 
came  the  rain  in  torrents  and  crash  went 
the  thunder.  The  herd-boys  hurried 
under  shelter,  for  the  frightened  cattle 
needed  no  driving,  and  tore  spontane- 
ously down  the  Alp  as  if  running  a 
steeple-chase:  Men,  cows,  pigs,  sheep 
and  goats  forgot  their  mutual  animos- 
ities, and  rushed  to  the  only  refuge  on 
the  mountain.  The  spell  was  broken 
which  had  bound  the  elements  for  some 
weeks  past,  and  the  cirque  from  the 


Weisshorn  to  Lo  Besso  was  the  theatre 
in  which  they  spent  their  fury. 

A  sullen  morning  succeeded  an  angry 
night.  We  were  undecided  in  our  coun- 
cil whether  to  advance  or  to  return  down 
the  valley.  Good  seemed  likely  to  over- 
power bad  ;  so,  at  5.40,  we  left  the  chalet 
en  route  for  our  pass  [amidst  the  most 
encouraging  assurances  from  all  the 
people  on  the  Alp  that  we  need  not  dis- 
tress ourselves  about  the  weather,  as  it 
was  not  possible  to  get  to  the  point  at 
which  we  were  aiming].* 

Our  course  led  us  at  first  over  ordi- 
nary mountain-slopes,  and  then  over  a 
flat  expanse  of  glacier.  Before  this  was 
quitted  it  was  needful  to  determine  the 
exact  line  which  was  to  be  taken.  We 
were  divided  betwixt  two  opinions.  I 
advocated  that  a  course  should  be  steer- 
ed due  south,  and  that  the  upper  plateau 
of  the  Morning  glacier  should  be  attained 
by  making  a  great  detour  to  our  right. 
This  was  negatived  without  a  division. 
Aimer  declared  in  favor  of  making  for 
some  rocks  to  the  south-west  of  the 
Schallhorn,  and  attaining  the  upper  pla- 
teau of  the  glacier  by  mounting  them. 
Croz  advised  a  middle  course,  up  some 
very  steep  and  broken  glacier.  Croz's 
route  seemed  likely  to  turn  out  to  be  im- 
practicable, because  much  step-cutting 
would  be  required  upon  it.  Aimer's 
rocks  did  not  look  good  :  they  were,  pos- 
sibly, unassailable.  I  thought  both  routes 
were  bad,  and  declined  to  vote  for  either 
of  them.  Moore  hesitated,  Aimer  gave 
way,  and  Croz's  route  was  adopted. 

He  did  not  go  very  far,  however,  be- 
fore he  found  that  he  had  undertaken 
too  much,  and  after  [glancing  occasion- 
ally round  at  us,  to  see  what  we  thought 
about  it,  suggested  that  it  might,  after 
all,  be  wiser  to  take  to  the  rocks  of  the 
Schallhorn] .  That  is  to  say,  he  suggest- 
ed the  abandonment  of  his  own  and  the 
adoption  of  Aimer's  route.  No  one  op- 
posed the  change  of  plan,  and  in  the 
absence  of  instructions  to  the  contrary 
he  proceeded  to  cut  steps  across  an  ice- 
slope  toward  the  rocks. 

When  we  quitted  the  slopes  of  the 
Arpitetta  Alp  we  took  a  south-easterly 

*  Moore's  Journal. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


107 


course  over  the  Morning  glacier.  We 
halted  to  settle  the  plan  of  attack  short- 
ly after  we  got  upon  the  ice.  The  rocks 
of  the  Schallhorn,  whose  ascent  Aimer 
recommended,  were  then  to  our  south- 
east. Croz's  proposed  route  was  to  the 
south-west  of  the  rocks,  and  led  up  the 
southern  side  of  a  very  steep  and  broken 
glacier.*  The  part  he  intended  to  trav- 
erse was,  in  a  sense,  undoubtedly  prac- 
ticable. He  gave  it  up  because  it  would 
have  involved  too  much  step-cutting. 
But  the  part  of  this  glacier  which  inter- 
vened between  his  route  and  Aimer's 
rocks  was,  in  the  most  complete  sense 
of  the  word,  impracticable.  It  passed 
over  a  continuation  of  the  rocks,  and 
was  broken  in  half  by  them.  The  up- 
per portion  was  separated  from  the  lower 
portion  by  a  long  slope  of  ice  that  had 
been  built  up  from  the  debris  of  the 
glacier  which  had  fallen  from  above. 
The  foot  of  this  slope  was  surrounded 
by  immense  quantities  of  the  larger  av- 
alanche blocks.  These  we  cautiously 
skirted,  and  when  Croz  halted  they  had 
been  left  far  below,  and  we  were  half- 
way up  the  side  of  the  great  slope  which 
led  to  the  base  of  the  ice-wall  above. 

Across  this  ice-slope  Croz  now  pro- 
ceeded to  cut.  It  was  executing  a  flank 
movement  in  the  face  of  an  enemy  by 
whom  we  might  be  attacked  at  any  mo- 
ment. The  peril  was  obvious.  It  was 
a  monstrous  folly.  It  was  foolhardiness. 
A  retreat  should  have  been  sounded. f 

"  I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess,"  wrote 
Moore  in  his  Journal,  "that  during  the 
whole  time  we  were  crossing  this  slope 
my  heart  was  in  my  mouth,  and  I  never 
felt  relieved  from  such  a  load  of  care  as 
when,  after,  I  suppose,  a  passage  of  about 
twenty  minutes,  we  got  on  to  the  rocks 
and  were  in  safety.  ...  I  have  never 
heard  a  positive  oath  come  from  Aimer's 
mouth,  but  the  language  in  which  he 
kept  up  a  running  commentary,  more  to 
himself  than  to  me,  as  we  went  along, 
was  stronger  than  I  should  have  given 
him  credit  for  using.  His  prominent 
feeling  seemed  to  be  one  of  indignation 

*  Through  what  is  technically  called  an  "  ice-fall." 
f  The   responsibility  did   not  rest  with  Croz.     His 
part  was  to  advise,  but  not  to  direct. 


that  we  should  be  in  such  a  position, 
and  self-reproach  at  being  a  party  to 
the  proceeding ;  while  the  emphatic  way 
in  which,  at  intervals,  he  exclaimed, 
4  Quick  !  be  quick  !'  sufficiently  betoken- 
ed his  alarm." 

It  was  not  necessary  to  admonish  Croz 
to  be  quick.  He  was  as  fully  alive  to 
the  risk  as  any  of  the  others.  He  told 
me  afterward  that  this  place  was  not 
only  the  most  dangerous  he  had  ever 
crossed,  but  that  no  consideration  what- 
ever would  tempt  him  to  cross  it  again. 
Manfully  did  he  exert  himself  to  escape 
from  the  impending  destruction.  His 
head,  bent  down  to  his  work,  never  turn- 
ed to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  One,  two, 
three,  went  his  axe,  and  then  he  stepped 
on  to  the  spot  where  he  had  been  cut- 
ting. How  painfully  insecure  should  we 
have  considered  those  steps  at  any  other 
time  !  But  now  we  thought  of  nothing 
but  the  rocks  in  front,  and  of  the  hid- 
eous seracs,  lurching  over  above  us, 
apparently  in  the  act  of  falling. 

We  got  to  the  rocks  in  safety,  and  if 
they  had  been  doubly  as  difficult  as  they 
were,  we  should  still  have  been  well 
content.  We  sat  down  and  refreshed 
the  inner  man,  keeping  our  eyes  on  the 
towering  pinnacles  of  ice  under  which 
we  had  passed,  but  which  now  were 
almost  beneath  us.  Without  a  prelim- 
inary warning  sound  one  of  the  largest 
— as  high  as  the  Monument  at  London 
Bridge — fell  upon  the  slope  below.  The 
stately  mass  heeled  over  as  if  upon  a 
hinge  (holding  together  until  it  bent 
thirty  degrees  forward),  then  it  crushed 
out  its  base,  and,  rent  into  a  thousand 
fragments,  plunged  vertically  down  upon 
the  slope  that  we  had  crossed  !  Every 
atom  of  our  track  that  was  in  its  course 
was  obliterated :  all  the  new  snow  was 
swept  away,  and  a  broad  sheet  of  smooth, 
glassy  ice  showed  the  resistless  force  with 
which  it  had  fallen. 

It  was  inexcusable  to  follow  such  a 
perilous  path,  but  it  is  easy  to  under- 
stand why  it  was  taken.  To  have  re- 
treated from  the  place  where  Croz  sug- 
gested a  change  of  plan,  to  have  de- 
scended below  the  reach  of  danger,  and 
to  have  mounted  again  by  the  route 


loS 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


which  Aimer  suggested,  would  have 
been  equivalent  to  abandoning  the  ex- 
cursion, for  no  one  would  have  passed 
another  night  in  the  chalet  on  the  Arpi- 
tetta  Alp.  "Many,"  says  Thucydides, 
"though  seeing  well  the  perils  ahead,  are 
forced  along  by  fear  of  dishonor,  as  the 
world  calls  it,  so  that,  vanquished  by  a 


position,  that  an  error  of  judgment  had 
been  committed. 

After  a  laborious  trudge  over  many 
species  of  snow,  and  through  many  va- 
rieties of  vapor — from  the  quality  of  a 
Scotch  mist  to  that  of  a  London  fog — we 
at  length  stood  on  the  depression  between 
the  Rothhorn  and  the  Schallhorn.*  A 
steep  wall  of  snow  was  upon  the 
Zinal  side  of  the  summit,  but 
what  the  descent  was  like  on  the 
other  side  we  could  not  tell,  for 
a  billow  of  snow  tossed  over  its 
crest  by  the  western  winds,  sus- 
pended over  Zermatt  with  mo- 
tion arrested,  resembling  an 
ocean  wave  frozen  in  the  act 
of  breaking,  cut  off  the  view.f 
Croz,  held  hard  in  by  the 
others,  who  kept  down  the  Zinal 
side,  opened  his  shoulders,  flog- 
ged down  the  foam,  and  cut 
away  the  cornice  to  its  junction 
with  the  summit ;  then  boldly 
leaped  down,  and  called  on  us 
to  follow  him. 

It  was  well  for  us  now  that 
we  had  such  a  man  as  leader. 
An  inferior  or  less  daring  guide 
would  have  hesitated  to  enter 
upon  the  descent  in  a  dense 


ICE-AVALANCHE   ON   THE    MOMING    PASS. 


mere  word,  they  fall  into  irremediable 
calamities."  Such  was  nearly  the  case 
here.  No  one  could  say  a  word  in 
justification  of  the  course  which  was 
adopted;  all  were  alive  to  the  danger 
that  was  being  encountered ;  yet  a  grave 
risk  was  deliberately,  although  unwill- 
ingly, incurred,  in  preference  to  admit- 
ting, by  withdrawal  from  an  untenable 


mist,  and  Croz  himself  would  have  done 
right  to  pause  had  he  been   less   mag- 

*  The  summit  of  the  pass  has  been  marked  on  Du- 
four's  map  3793  metres,  or  12,444  feet. 

f  These  snow-cornices  are  common  on  the  crests  of 
high  mountain-ridges,  and  it  is  always  prudent  ( just 
before  arriving  upon  the  summit  of  a  mountain  or 
ridge)  to  sound  with  the  alpenstock ;  that  is  to  say, 
drive  it  in,  to  discover  whether  there  is  one  or  not. 
Men  have  often  narrowly  escaped  losing  their  lives 
from  neglecting  this  precaution. 


1HE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  MOMING  PASS  IN  1864. 


Page  108. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  iS6o-'69. 


109 


nificent  in  physique.  He  acted  rather 
than  said,  "Where  snow  lies  fast,  there 
man  can  go ;  where  ice  exists,  a  way 
may  be  cut ;  it  is  a  question  of  power  :  I 
have  the  power — all  you  have  to  do  is 
to  follow  me."  Truly,  he  did  not  spare 
himself,  and  could  he  have  performed 
the  feats  upon  the  boards  of  a  theatre 
that  he  did  upon  this  occasion,  he  would 
have  brought  down  the  house  with  thun- 
ders of  applause.  Here  is  what  Moore 
wrote  in  his  Journal : 

[The  descent  bore  a  strong  resem- 
blance to  the  Col  de  Pilatte,  but  was 
very  much  steeper  and  altogether  more 
difficult,  which  is  saying  a  good  deal. 
Croz  was  in  his  element,  and  selected 
his  way  with  marvelous  sagacity,  while 
Aimer  had  an  equally  honorable,  and 
perhaps  more  responsible,  post  in  the 
rear,  which  he  kept  with  his  usual  stead- 
iness. .  .  .  One  particular  passage  has 
impressed  itself  on  my  mind  as  one  of 
the  most  nervous  I  have  ever  made. 
We  had  to  pass  along  a  crest  of  ice,  a 
mere  knife-edge — on  our  left  a  broad 
crevasse,  whose  bottom  was  lost  in  blue 
haze,  and  on  our  right,  at  an  angle  of 
seventy  degrees  or  more,  a  slope  falling 
to  a  similar  gulf  below.  Croz,  as  he 
went  along  the  edge,  chipped  small 
notches  in  the  ice,  in  which  we  placed 
our  feet,  with  the  toes  well  turned  out, 
doing  all  we  knew  to  preserve  our  bal- 
ance. While  stepping  from  one  of  these 
precarious  footholds  to  another,  I  stag- 
gered for  a  moment.  I  had  not  really 
lost  my  footing,  but  the  agonized  tone 
in  which  Aimer,  who  was  behind  me, 
on  seeing  me  waver,  exclaimed,  "Slip 
not,  sir!"  gave  us  an  even  livelier  im- 
pression than  we  already  had  of  the  in- 
security of  the  position.  .  .  .  One  huge 
chasm,  whose  upper  edge  was  far  above 
the  lower  one,  could  neither  be  leaped 
nor  turned,  and  threatened  to  prove  an 
insuperable  barrier.  But  Croz  showed 
himself  equal  to  the  emergency.  Held 
up  by  the  rest  of  the  party,  he  cut  a 
series  of  holes  for  the  hands  and  feet, 
down  and  along  the  almost  perpendicu- 
lar wall  of  ice  forming  the  upper  side  of 
the  schrund.  Down  this  slippery  stair- 
case we  crept,  with  our  faces  to  the  wall, 


until  a  point  was  reached  where  the 
width  of  the  chasm  was  not  too  great 
for  us  to  drop  across.  Before  we  had 
done  we  got  quite  accustomed  to  taking 
flying  leaps  over  the  schrunds.  ...  To 
make  a  long  story  short :  after  a  most 
desperate  and  exciting  struggle,  and  as 
bad  a  piece  of  ice-work  as  it  is  possible 
to  imagine,  we  emerged  on  to  the  upper 
plateau  of  the  Hohlicht  glacier.] 

The  glimpses  which  had  been  caught 
of  the  lower  part  of  the  Hohlicht  glacier 
were  discouraging,  so  it  was  now  deter- 
mined to  cross  over  the  ridge  between 
it  and  the  Rothhorn  glacier.  This  was 
not  done  without  great  trouble.  Again 
we  rose  to  a  height  exceeding  twelve 
thousand  feet.  Eventually  we  took  to 
the  track  of  the  despised  Triftjoch,  and 
descended  by  the  well-known  but  rough 
path  which  leads  to  that  pass,  arriving 
at  the  Monte  Rosa  hotel  at  Zermatt  at 
7.20  P.  M.  We  occupied  nearly  twelve 
hours  of  actual  walking  in  coming  from 
the  chalet  on  the  Arpitetta  Alp  (which 
was  two  and  a  half  hours  above  Zinal), 
and  we  consequently  found  that  the 
Morning  pass  was  not  the  shortest  route 
from  Zinal  to  Zermatt,  although  it  was 
the  most  direct. 

Two  dozen  guides  —  good,  bad  and 
indifferent,  French,  Swiss  and  Italian 
—  can  commonly  be  seen  sitting  on 
the  wall  in  front  of  the  Monte  Rosa 
hotel,  waiting  on  their  employers  and 
looking  for  employers,  watching  new 
arrivals,  and  speculating  on  the  number 
of  francs  which  may  be  extracted  from 
their  pockets.  The  messieurs  —  some- 
times strangely  and  wonderfully  dressed 
— stand  about  in  groups,  or  lean  back 
in  chairs,  or  lounge  on  the  benches 
which  are  placed  by  the  door.  They 
wear  extraordinary  boots,  and  still  more 
remarkable  head-dresses.  Their  peeled, 
blistered  and  swollen  faces  are  worth 
studying.  Some,  by  the  exercise  of 
watchfulness  and  unremitting  care,  have 
been  fortunate  enough  to  acquire  a  fine 
raw  sienna  complexion.  But  most  of 
them  have  not  been  so  happy.  They 
have  been  scorched  on  rocks  and  roast- 
ed on  glaciers.  Their  cheeks — first  puff- 
ed, then  cracked — have  exuded  a  tur- 


no 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


pentine-like  matter,  which  has  coursed 
down  their  faces,  and  has  dried  in 
patches  like  the  resin  on  the  trunks  of 
pines.  They  have  removed  it,  and  at 
the  same  time  have  pulled  off  large 
flakes  of  their  skin.  They  have  gone 
from  bad  to  worse — their  case  has  be- 
come hopeless  —  knives  and  scissors 
have  been  called  into  play :  tenderly 
and  daintily  they  have  endeavored  to 
reduce  their  cheeks  to  one  uniform  hue. 
It  is  not  to  be  done.  But  they  have 
gone  on,  fascinated,  and  at  last  have 
brought  their  unhappy  countenances  to 
a  state  of  helpless  and  complete  ruin. 
Their  lips  are  cracked,  their  cheeks  are 
swollen,  their  eyes  are  bloodshot,  their 
noses  are  peeled  and  indescribable. 

Such  are  the  pleasures  of  the  moun- 
taineer !  Scornfully  and  derisively  the 
last-comer  compares  the  sight  with  his 
own  flaccid  face  and  dainty  hands,  un- 
conscious that  he  too,  perhaps,  will  be 
numbered  with  those  whom  he  now 
ridicules. 

There  is  a  frankness  of  manner  about 
these  strangely  -  appareled  and  queer- 
faced  men  which  does  not  remind  one 
of  drawing-room  or  city  life ;  and  it  is 
good  to  see — in  this  club-room  of  Zer- 
matt — those  cold  bodies,  our  too-frigid 
countrymen,  melt  together  when  they 
are  brought  into  contact;  and  it  is  pleas- 
ant to  witness  the  hearty  welcome  given 
to  the  new-comers  by  the  host  and  his 
excellent  wife.* 

I  left  this  agreeable  society  to  seek 
letters  at  the  post.  They  yielded  dis- 
astrous intelligence.  My  holiday  was 
brought  to  an  abrupt  termination,  and 
I  awaited  the  arrival  of  Reilly  (who  was 
convoying  the  stores  for  the  attack  on 
the  Matterhorn)  only  to  inform  him  that 
our  arrangements  were  upset ;  then  trav- 
eled home,  day  and  night,  as  fast  as  ex- 
press-trains would  carry  me. 

*  This  opportunity  has  been  taken  to  introduce  to 
the  reader  some  of  the  most  expert  amateur  moun- 
taineers of  the  time,  and  a  few  of  the  guides  who 
have  been  or  will  be  mentioned  in  the  course  of  this 
narrative. 

Peter  Perm  is  on  the  extreme  right.  Then  come 
young  Peter  Taugwalder  (upon  the  bench)  and  J.  J. 
Maquignaz  (leaning  against  the  door-post).  Franz 
Andermatten  occupies  the  steps,  and  Ulrich  Lauener 
towers  in  the  background. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE   ASCENT   OF   THE   GRAND    CORNIER. 

OUR  career  in  1864  had  been  one  of 
unbroken  success,  but  the  great  ascent 
upon  which  I  had  set  my  heart  was  not 
attempted,  and  until  it  was  accomplished 
I  was  unsatisfied.  Other  things,  too,  in- 
fluenced me  to  visit  the  Alps  once  more. 
I  wished  to  travel  elsewhere,  in  places 
where  the  responsibility  of  direction 
would  rest  with  myself  alone.  It  was 
well  to  know  how  far  my  judgment  in 
the  choice  of  routes  could  be  relied 
upon. 

The  journey  of  1865  was  chiefly  un- 
dertaken, then,  to  find  out  to  what  ex- 
tent I  was  capable  of  selecting  paths  over 
mountainous  country.  The  programme 
which  was  drawn  up  for  this  journey 
was  rather  ambitious,  since  it  included 
almost  all  of  the  great  peaks  which  had 
not  then  been  ascended,  but  it  was  nei- 
ther lightly  undertaken  nor  hastily  exe- 
cuted. All  pains  were  taken  to  secure 
success.  Information  was  sought  from 
those  who  could  give  it,  and  the  defeats 
of  others  were  studied,  that  their  errors 
might  be  avoided.  The  results  which 
followed  came  not  so  much,  perhaps, 
from  luck,  as  from  forethought  and  care- 
ful calculation. 

For  success  does  not,  as  a  rule,  come 
by  chance,  and  when  one  fails  there  is  a 
reason  for  it.  But  when  any  notable  or 
so-called  brilliant  thing  is  done,  we  are 
too  apt  to  look  upon  the  success  alone, 
without  considering  how  it  was  accom- 
plished, whilst  when  men  fail  we  inquire 
why  they  have  not  succeeded.  So  fail- 
ures are  oftentimes  more  instructive  than 
successes,  and  the  disappointments  of 
some  become  profitable  to  others. 

Up  to  a  certain  point  the  programme 
was  completely  and  happily  carried  out. 
Nothing  but  success  attended  our  efforts 
so  long  as  the  excursions  were  executed 
as  they  had  been  planned.  Most  of 
them  were  made  upon  the  very  days 
which  had  been  fixed  for  them  months 
beforehand  ;  and  all  were  accomplished, 
comparatively  speaking,  so  easily  that 
their  descriptions  must  be,  in  the  absence 
of  difficulty  and  danger,  less  interesting 
to  the  general  reader  than  they  would 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


Ill 


have  been  if  our  course  had  been  mark- 
ed by  blunders  and  want  of  judgment. 
Before  proceeding  to  speak  of  these  ex- 
cursions, it  will  not  be  entirely  useless  to 
explain  the  reasons  which  influenced  the 
selection  of  the  routes  which  were  adopt- 
ed upon  them. 

In  the  course  of  the  past  five  seasons 
my  early  practices  were  revolutionized. 
My  antipathy  to  snow  was  overcome, 
and  my  predilection  for  rocks  was  modi- 
fied. Like  all  those  who  are  not  moun- 
taineers born,  I  was,  at  the  first,  ex- 
tremely nervous  upon  steep  snow.  The 
snow  seemed  bound  to  slip,  and  all  those 
who  were  upon  it  to  go  along  with  it. 
Snow  of  a  certain  quality  is  undoubtedly 
liable  to  slip  when  it  is  at  a  certain  in- 
clination. The  exact  states  which  are 
dangerous  or  safe  it  is  not  possible  to 
describe  in  writing.  That  is  only  learnt 
by  experience,  and  confidence  upon 
snow  is  not  really  felt  until  one  has 
gained  experience.  Confidence  gradu- 
ally came  to  me,  and  as  it  came  so  did 
my  partiality  for  rocks  diminish.  For  it 
was  evident,  to  use  a  common  expres- 
sion, that  it  paid  better  to  travel  upon 
snow  than  upon  rocks.  This  applies  to 
snow-beds  pure  and  simple,  or  to  snow 
which  is  lying  over  glacier ;  and  in  the 
selection  of  routes  it  has  latterly  always 
been  my  practice  to  look  for  the  places 
where  snow-slopes  or  snow-covered  gla- 
ciers reach  highest  into  mountains. 

It  is  comparatively  seldom,  however, 
that  an  ascent  of  a  great  mountain  can 
be  executed  exclusively  upon  snow  and 
glacier.  Ridges  peep  through  which 
have  to  be  surmounted.  In  my  earlier 
scramblings  I  usually  took  to,  or  was 
taken  upon,  the  summits  (or  aretes)  of 
the  ridges,  and  a  good  many  mountain- 
eers habitually  take  to  them  on  principle, 
as  the  natural  and  proper  way.  Ac- 
cording to  my  experience,  it  is  seldom 
well  to  do  so  when  any  other  course  is 
open.  As  I  have  already  said,  and 
presently  shall  repeat  more  particularly, 
the  crests  of  all  the  main  ridges  of  the 
great  peaks  of  the  Alps  are  shattered 
and  cleft  by  frost ;  and  it  not  unfrequent- 
iy  happens  that  a  notch  in  a  ridge,  which 
appears  perfectly  insignificant  from  a 


distance,  is  found  to  be  an  insuperable 
barrier  to  farther  progress,  and  a  great 
detour  or  a  long  descent  has  to  be  made 
to  avoid  the  obstacle.  When  committed 
to  an  arete,  one  is  tied,  almost  always, 
to  a  particular  course,  from  which  it  is 
difficult  to  deviate.  Much  loss  of  time 
must  result  if  any  serious  obstruction 
occurs,  and  total  defeat  is  not  at  all  im- 
probable. 

But  it  seldom  happens  that  a  great 
Alpine  peak  is  seen  that  is  cut  off  ab- 
ruptly, in  all  directions,  from  the  snows 
and  glaciers  which  surround  it.  In  its 
gullies  snow  will  cling,  although  its  faces 
may  be  too  steep  for  the  formation  of 
permanent  snow-beds.  The  merits  of 
these  snow -gullies  (or  couloirs)  have 
been  already  pointed  out,  and  it  is  hard- 
ly necessary  to  observe,  after  that  which 
was  just  now  said  about  snow,  that  as- 
cents of  snow-gullies  (with  proper  pre- 
cautions) are  very  much  to  be  preferred 
to  ascents  of  rocky  aretes. 

By  following  the  glaciers,  the  snow- 
slopes  above,  and  the  couloirs  rising  out 
of  them,  it  is  usually  possible  to  get  very 
close  to  the  summits  of  the  great  peaks 
in  the  Alps.  The  final  climb  will,  per- 
haps, necessarily,  be  by  an  arete.  The 
less  of  it  the  better. 

It  occasionally  occurs  that  consider- 
able mountain-slopes  or  faces  are  des- 
titute of  snow-gullies.  In  that  case  it 
will,  very  likely,  be  best  to  adhere  to  the 
faces  (or  to  the  gullies  or  minor  ridges 
upon  them),  rather  than  take  to  the 
great  ridges.  Upon  a  face  one  can 
move  to  the  right  or  to  the  left  with  more 
facility  than  upon  the  crest  of  a  ridge, 
and  when  a  difficulty  is  arrived  at,  it  is, 
consequently,  less  troublesome  to  cir- 
cumvent. 

In  selecting  the  routes  which  were 
taken  in  1865,  I  looked,  first,  for  places 
where  glaciers  and  snow  extended  high- 
est up  into  the  mountains  which  were 
to  be  ascended  or  the  ridges  which  were 
to  be  crossed ;  next,  for  gullies  filled 
with  snow  leading  still  higher  ;  and  final- 
ly, from  the  heads  of  the  gullies  we  com- 
pleted the  ascents,  whenever  it  was  prac- 
ticable, by  faces  instead  of  by  aretes. 
The  ascent  of  the  Grand  Cornier  ( 1 3,022), 


112 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


of  the  Dent  Blanche  (14,318),  Grandes 
Jorasses  ( 1 3,700) ,  Aiguille  Verte  ( 1 3, 540) , 
Ruinette  (12,727),  and  the  Matterhorn 
(14,780),  were  all  accomplished  in  this 
way,  besides  the  other  excursions  which 
will  be  referred  to  by  and  by.  The  route 
selected  before  the  start  was  made  was 
in  every  case  strictly  followed  out. 

We  inspected  all  of  these  mountains 
from  neighboring  heights  before  enter- 
ing upon  their  ascents.  I  explained  to 
the  guides  the  routes  I  proposed  to  be 
taken,  and  (when  the  courses  were  at 
all  complicated)  sketched  them  out  on 
paper  to  prevent  misunderstanding.  In 
some  few  cases  they  suggested  varia- 
tions, and  in  every  case  the  route  was 
well  discussed.  The  execution  of  the 
work  was  done  by  the  guides,  and  I 
seldom  interfered  with  or  attempted  to 
assist  in  it. 

The  1 3th  of  June,  1865,  I  spent  in  the 
valley  of  Lauterbrunnen  with  the  Rev. 
W.  H.  Hawker  and  the  guides  Christian 
and  Ulrich  Lauener,  and  on  the  I4th 
crossed  the  Petersgrat  with  Christian 
Aimer  and  Johann  Tannler  to  Turtman 
(Tourtemagne)  in  the  Valais.  Tannler 


was  then  paid  off,  as  Michel  Croz  and 
Franz  Biener  were  awaiting  me. 

It  was  not  possible  to  find  two  leading 
guides  who  worked  together  more  har- 
moniously than  Croz  and  Aimer.  Bie- 
ner's  part  was  subordinate  to  theirs,  and 
he  was  added  as  a  convenience  rather 
than  as  a  necessity.  Croz  spoke  French 
alone,  Aimer  little  else  than  German. 
Biener  spoke  both  languages,  and  was 
useful  on  that  account ;  but  he  seldom 
went  to  the  front,  excepting  during  the 
early  part  of  the  day,  when  the  work 
was  easy,  and  he  acted  throughout  more 
as  a  porter  than  as  a  guide. 

The  importance  of  having  a  reserve 
of  power  on  mountain  expeditions  can- 
not be  too  strongly  insisted  upon.  We 
always  had  some  in  hand,  and  were 
never  pressed  or  overworked  so  long  as 
we  were  together.  Come  what  might, 
we  were  ready  for  it.  But  by  a  series  of 
chances,  which  I  shall  never  cease  to 
regret,  I  was  first  obliged  to  part  with 
Croz,*  and  then  to  dismiss  the  others ; 
and  so,  deviating  from  the  course  that  I 
had  deliberately  adopted,  which  was 
successful  in  practice  because  it  was 


*  I  engaged  Croz  for  1865  before  I  parted  from  him  in  1864,  but  upon  writing  to  him  in  the  month  of  April  to 
fix  the  dates  of  his  engagement,  I  found  that  he  had  supposed  he  was  free  (in  consequence  ~>f  not  having  heard 

from  me  earlier),  and  had  engaged  himself  to  a  Mr.  B from  the  2yth  of  June.     I  endeavored  to  hold  him  to 

his  promise,  but  he  considered  himself  unable  to  withdraw  from  his  later  obligation.  His  letters  were  honorable 
to  him.  The  following  extract  from  the  last  one  he  wrote  to  me  is  given  as  an  interesting  souvenir  of  a  brave 
and  upright  man ; 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


sound  in  principle,  became  fortuitously  a 
member  of  an  expedition  that  ended  with 
the  catastrophe  which  brought  my  scram- 
bles amongst  the  Alps  to  a  close. 

On  June  1 5  we  went  from  Turtman  to 
Z'meiden,  and  thence  over  the  Forcletta 
pass  to  Zinal.  We  diverged  from  the 
summit  of  the  pass  up  some  neighboring 
heights  to  inspect  the  Grand  Cornier,  and 
I  decided  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  its 
northern  side.  The  mountain  was  more 
than  seven  miles  away,  but  it  was  quite 
safe  to  pronounce  it 
inaccessible  from 
our  direction.  yflSHL^Hk. 

On  the  1 6th  we  left 
Zinal  at  2.05  A.M., 
having  been  for  a 
moment  greatly  sur- 
prised by  an  entry 
in  the  hotel-book,* 
and  ascending  by 
the  Zinal  glacier, 
and  giving  the  base 
of  our  mountain  a 
wide  berth  in  order 
that  it  might  the  bet- 
ter be  examined, 
passed  gradually 
right  round  to  its 
south  before  a  way 
up  it  was  seen.  At 
8.30  we  arrived 
upon  the  plateau  of 
the  glacier  that  de- 
scends toward  the 
east,  between  the 
Grand  Cornier  and 
the  Dent  Blanche, 
and  from  this  place 

a  route  was  readily  traced.  We  steered 
to  the  north  over  the  glacier,  toward  the 
ridge  that  descends  to  the  east,  gained  it 
by  mounting  snow-slopes,  and  followed 

*  It  was  an  entry  describing  an  ascent  of  the  Grand 
Cornier  i  which  we  supposed  had  never  been  ascend- 
ed) from  the  very  direction  which  we  had  just  pro- 
nounced to  be  hopeless  !  It  was  especially  startling, 
because  Franz  Hiener  was  spoken  of  in  it  as  having 
been  concerned  in  the  ascent.  On  examining  Biener, 
it  was  found  that  he  had  made  the  excursion,  and  had 
supposed  at  the  time  he  was  upon  its  summit  that  it 
was  the  Grand  Cornier.  He  saw  afterward  that  they 
had  only  ascended  one  of  the  several  points  upon  the 
ridge  running  northward  from  the  Grand  Cornier — I 
believe,  the  Pigne  de  1'Allee  (11,168  feet)! 


it  to  the  summit,  which  was  arrived  at  be- 
fore half-past  twelve.  From  first  to  last 
the  route  was  almost  entirely  over  snow. 
The  ridges  leading  to  the  north  and  to 
the  south  from  the  summit  of  the  Grand 
Cornier  exhibited  in  a  most  striking 
manner  the  extraordinary  effects  that 
may  be  produced  by  violent  alternations 
of  heat  and  cold.  The  southern  one 
was  hacked  and  split  into  the  wildest 
forms,  and  the  northern  one  was  not 
less  cleft  and  impracticable,  and  offered 


PART   OH   THE   SOUTHERN    RIDGE    OF    THE    UKAN1)    CORNIER. 


[  the  droll  piece  of  rock-carving  which  is 

j  represented  upon  page  1  14.    Some  small 

I  blocks  actually  tottered  and  fell  before 

I  our  eyes,   and  starting  others    in    their 

downward  course,   grew   into  a  perfect 

avalanche,  which  descended  with  a  sol- 

emn roar  on  the  glaciers  beneath. 

It  is  natural  that  the  great  ridges  should 
present  the  wildest  forms  —  not  on  ac- 
count of  their  dimensions,  but  by  reason 
of  their  positions.  They  are  exposed  to 
the  fiercest  heat  of  the  sun,  and  are  sel- 
dom in  shadow  as  long  as  it  is  above  the 
horizon.  They  are  entirely  unprotected, 


0? 


114 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


and  are  attacked  by  the  strongest  blasts 
and  by  the  most  intense  cold.  The 
most  durable  rocks  are  not  proof  against 
such  assaults.  These  grand,  apparent- 
ly solid,  eternal  mountains,  seeming  so 
firm,  so  immutable,  are  yet  ever  chang- 
ing and  crumbling  into  dust.  These 
shattered  ridges  are  evidence  of  their  suf- 
ferings. Let  me  repeat  that  every  prin- 
cipal ridge  of  every  great  peak  in  the 
Alps  amongst  those  I  have  seen  has 
been  shattered  in 
this  way,  and  that 
every  summit 
amongst  the 
rock-summits 
upon  which  I 
have  stood  has 


PART   OF    THE    NORTHERN    RIUGE    OF   THE    GRAND    CORNIER. 


been  nothing  but  a  piled-up  heap  of 
fragments. 

The  minor  ridges  do  not  usually  pre- 
sent such  extraordinary  forms  as  the 
principal  ones.  They  are  less  exposed, 
and  they  are  less  broken  up,  and  it  is 
reasonable  to  assume  that  their  annual 
degradation  is  less  than  that  of  the  sum- 
mit-ridges. 

The  wear  and  tear  does  not  cease 
even  in  winter,  for  these  great  ridges  are 
never  completely  covered  up  by  snow, 
and  the  sun  has  still  power.*  The  de- 

*  T  wrote  in  the  Athenceum,  August  29,  1863,  to  the 
same  effect :  "  This  action  of  the  frost  does  not  cease 
in  winter,  inasmuch  as  it  is  impossible  for  the  Matter- 
horn  to  be  entirely  covered  by  snow.  Less  precip- 
itous mountains  may  be  entirely  covered  up  during 
winter,  and  if  they  do  not  then  actually  gain  height, 
the  wear  and  tear  is,  at  least,  suspended.  .  .  .  We 
arrive,  therefore,  at  the  conclusion  that  although  such 
snow-peaks  as  Mont  Blanc  may  in  the  course  of  ages 
grow  higher,  the  Matterhorn  must  decrease  in  height." 
These  remarks  have  received  confirmation. 

The  men  who  were  left  by  M.  Dollfus-Ausset  in  his 


struction  is  incessant,  and  increases  as 
time  goes  on  ;  for  the  greater  the  sur- 
faces which  are  exposed  to  the  practi- 
cally inexhaustible  powers  of  sun  and 
frost,  the  greater  ruin  will  be  effected. 

The  rock-falls  which  are  continually 
occurring  upon  all  rock-mountains  are, 
of  course,  caused  by  these  powers.  No 
one  doubts  it,  but  one  never  believes  it 
so  thoroughly  as  when  the  quarries  are 
seen  from  which  their  materials  have 
been  hewn,  and  when  the  germs,  so  to 
speak,  of  these  avalanches  have  been 
seen  actually  starting  from  above. 

These  falls  of  rock  take  place  from 
two  causes  :  first,  from  the  heat  of  the 
sun   detaching    small   stones   or   rocks 
which  have  been  arrested  on  ledges  or 
slopes  and  bound  together  by  snow  or 
ice.     I  have  seen  such  released  many 
times  when  the  sun  has  risen  high  :  they 
fall    gently   at    first,    gather 
strength,  grow  in  volume,  and 
at  last  rush  down  with  a  cloud 
trailing  behind,  like  the  dust  af- 
ter an  express-train.     Second- 
ly, from  the  freezing  of  the  wa- 
ter  which   trickles  during    the 
day  into  the  clefts,  fissures  and 
crannies.     This  agency  is  nat- 
urally most  active  in  the  night, 
and  then,  or  during  very  cold  weather, 
the  greatest  falls  take  place. f 

When  one  has  continually  seen  and 
heard  these  falls,  it  is  easily  understood 
why  the  glaciers  are  laden  with  moraines. 
The  wonder  is,  not  that  they  are  some- 
times so  great,  but  that  they  are  not  al- 
ways greater.  Irrespective  of  lithologi- 
cal  considerations,  one  knows  that  this 
debris  cannot  have  been  excavated  by 
the  glaciers.  The  moraines  are  borne 

observatory  upon  the  summit  of  the  Col  Theodule 
during  the  winter  of  1865,  remarked  that  the  snow  was 
partially  melted  upon  the  rocks  in  their  vicinity  upon 
the  igth,  2oth,  2ist,  22d,  23d,  26th  and  zjth  of  Decem- 
ber of  that  year,  and  on  the  22d  of  December  they  en- 
tered in  their  journal :  "Nous  avons  vu  an  -Matter- 
horn  que  la  neige  se  fondait  sur  roches  et  qu'il  s'en 
ecoulait  de  1'eau."  —  Materianx  pour  I' etude  des 
Glaciers,  vol.  viii.  part  i.  p.  246,  1868;  and  vol.  viii. 
part  ii.  p.  77,  1869. 

t  In  each  of  the  seven  nights  I  passed  upon  the 
south-west  ridge  of  the  Matterhorn  in  i86i-'63  la* 
heights  varying  from  11,844  to  12,992  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea),  the  rocks  fell  incessantly  in  showers 
and  avalanches. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


by  glaciers,  but  they  are  born  from  the 
ridges.  They  are  generated  by  the  sun 
and  delivered  by  the  frost.  "Fire,"  it 
is  well  said  in  Plutarch's  life  of  Camil- 
lus,  "is  the  most  active  thing  in  nature, 
and  all  generation  is  motion,  or  at  least 
with  motion  :  all  other  parts  of  matter 
without  warmth  lie  sluggish  and  dead, 
and  crave  the  influence  of  heat  as  their 
life,  and  when  that  comes  upon  them 
they  immediately  acquire  some  active 
or  passive  qualities."* 

If  the  Alps  were  granted  a  perfectly 
invariable  temperature,  if  they  were  no 
longer  subjected  alternately  to  freezing 
blasts  and  to  scorching  heat,  they  might 
more  correctly  be  termed  "eternal." 
They  might  continue  to  decay,  but  their 
abasement  would  be  much  less  rapid. 

When  rocks  are  covered  by  a  sheet 
of  glacier  they  do  enjoy  an  almost  in- 
variable temperature.  The  extremes  of 
summer  and  winter  are  unknown  to 
rocks  which  are  so  covered  up :  a  range 
of  a  very  few  degrees  is  the  most  that 
is  possible  underneath  the  ice.f  There  is 
then  little  or  no  disintegration  from  un- 
equal expansion  and  contraction.  Frost 
then  does  not  penetrate  into  the  heart  of 
the  rock  and  cleave  off  vast  masses. 
The  rocks  then  sustain  grinding  instead 
of  cleaving.  Atoms  then  come  away 
instead  of  masses.  Fissures  and  over- 
hanging surfaces  are  bridged,  for  the 
ice  cannot  get  at  them  ;  and  after  many 
centuries  of  grinding  have  been  sus- 
tained, we  still  find  numberless  angular 
surfaces  (in  the  lee-sides]  which  were 
fashioned  before  the  ice  began  to  work. 

The  points  of  difference  which  are  so 
evident  between  the  operations  of  heat, 
cold  and  water,  and  the  action  of  gla- 

*  Tonson's  ed.  of  1758.  Bacon  may  have  had  this 
passage  in  mind  when  he  wrote,  "  It  must  not  be 
thought  that  heat  generates  motion,  or  motion  heat 
(though  in  some  respects  this  be  true),  but  that  the 
very  essence  of  heat,  or  the  substantial  self  of  heat, 
is  motion,  and  nothing  else." — Novum  Organum, 
book  ii.,  Devey's  translation. 

t  Doubtless,  at  the  sides  of  glacier-beds  the  range 
of  temperature  is  greater.  But  there  is  evidence  that 
the  winter  cold  does  not  penetrate  to  the  innermost  re- 
cesses of  glacier-beds  in  the  fact  that  streams  continue 
to  flow  underneath  the  ice  all  the  year  round,  winter 
as  well  as  summer,  in  the  Alps  and  (I  was  informed 
in  Greenland)  in  Greenland.  Even  in  midsummer  the 
bottom  temperature  is  close  to  32°  Fahr. 


ciers  upon  rocks,  are  as  follow.  The 
former  take  advantage  of  cracks,  fis- 
sures, joints  and  soft  places — the  latter 
does  not.  The  former  can  work  under- 
neath overhanging  masses  —  the  latter 
cannot.  The  effects  produced  by  the 
former  continually  increase,  because 
they  continually  expose  fresrTsurfaces 
by  forming  new  cracks,  fissures  and 
holes.  The  effects  which  the  latter  pro- 
duces constantly  diminish,  because  the 
area  of  the  surfaces  operated  upon  be- 
comes less  and  less  as  they  become 
smoother  and  flatter. 

What  can  one  conclude,  then,  but 
that  sun,  frost  and  water  have  had  in- 
finitely more  to  do  than  glaciers  with 
the  fashioning  of  mountain-forms  and 
valley-slopes  ?  Who  can  refuse  to  be- 
lieve that  powers  which  are  at  work 
everywhere,  which  have  been  at  work 
always,  which  are  so  incomparably  ac- 
tive, capable  and  enduring,  must  have 
produced  greater  effects  than  a  solitary 
power  which  is  always  local  in  its  influ- 
ence, which  has  worked  comparatively 
but  for  a  short  time,  which  is  always 
slow  and  feeble  in  its  operations,  and 
which  constantly  diminishes  in  inten- 
sity ?  Yet  there  are  some  who  refuse  to 
believe  that  sun,  frost  and  water  have 
played  an  important  part  in  modeling 
the  Alps,  and  hold  it  as  an  article  of 
their  faith  that  the  Alpine  region  "  owes 
its  present  conformation  mainly  to  the 
action  of  its  ancient  glaciers  "!  J 

My  reverie  was  interrupted  by  Croz 
observing  that  it  was  time  to  be  off. 
Less  than  two  hours  sufficed  to  take  us 
to  the  glacier  plateau  below  (where  w£ 
had  left  our  baggage) :  three-quarters 
of  an  hour  more  placed  us  upon  the 
depression  between  the  Grand  Cornier 
and  the  Dent  Blanche  (Col  du  Grand 
Cornier),  and  at  6  P.  M.  we  arrived  at 
Albricolla.  Croz  and  Biener  hankered 
after  milk,  and  descended  to  a  village 
lower  down  the  valley,  but  Aimer  and 
I  stayed  where  we  were,  and  passed  a 
chilly  night  on  some  planks  in  a  half- 
burnt  chalet. 

I  Professor  Tyndall  "  On  the  Conformation  of  the 
Alps,"  Phil.  Mag.,  Sept.,  1862. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 
THE   ASCENT    OF   THE   DENT    BLANCHE. 

CROZ  and  Biener  did  not  return  until 
past  5  A.M.  on  June  17,  and  we  then 
set  out  at  once  for  Zermatt,   intending 
to  cross  the  Col  d'Herens.     But  we  did 
not    proceed  far  before  the   attractions 
of  the  Dent  Blanche 
were    felt   to   be  ir- 
resistible,   and    we 
turned  aside  up  the 
steep  lateral  glacier 
which    descends 
along  its  south-west- 
ern face. 

The  Dent  Blanche 
is  a  mountain  little 
known  except  to  the 
climbing  fraternity. 
It  was,  and  is,  re- 
puted to  be  one  of  the  most  difficult 
mountains  in  the  Alps.  Many  attempts 
were  made  to  scale  it  before  its  ascent 
was  accomplished.  Even  Leslie  Stephen 
himself,  fleetest  of  foot  of  the  whole 
Alpine  brotherhood,  once  upon  a  time 
returned  discomfited  from  it. 

It  was  not  climbed  until  1862,  but  in 
that  year  Mr.  T.  S.  Kennedy,  with  Mr. 
Wigram  and  the  guides  Jean  B.  Croz 
and  Kronig,  managed  to  conquer  it. 

116 


LESLIE    STEPHEN. 


They  had  a  hard  fight,  though,  before 
they  gained  the  victory  :  a  furious  wind 
and  driving  snow,  added  to  the  natu- 
ral difficulties,  nearly  turned  the  scale 
against  them. 

Mr.  Kennedy  described  his  expedi- 
tion in  a  very  interesting  paper  in  the 
Alpine  Journal.  His  account  bore  the 
impress  of  truth,  but  unbelievers  said 
that  it  was  impossible  to  have  told  (in 
weather  such  as  was  then  experienced) 
whether  the  summit  had  actually  been 
attained,  and  sometimes  roundly  assert- 
ed that  the  mountain,  as  the  saying  is, 
yet  remained  virgin. 

I  did  not  share  these  doubts,  although 
they  influenced  me  to  make  the  ascent. 
I  thought  it  might  be  possible  to  find  an 
easier  route  than  that  taken  by  Mr. 
Kennedy,  and  that  if  we  succeeded  in 
discovering  one  we  should  be  able  at 
once  to  refute  his  traducers  and  to  vaunt 
our  superior  wisdom.  Actuated  by  these 
elevated  motives,  I  halted  my  little 
army  at  the  foot  of  the  glacier,  and 
inquired,  "  Which  is  best  for  us  to  do  ? — 
to  ascend  the  Dent  Blanche,  or  to  cross 
to  Zermatt  ?"  They  answered,  with 
befitting  solemnity,  "  We  think  Dent 
Blanche  is  best." 

From  the  chalets  of  Abricollathe  south- 


IHE  BERCSCHRUNO  ON  THE  GENT  BLANCHE  !N  1865. 


Page  117. 


at  THB   -^ 
rTJITIVBRSIT7; 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


117 


west  face  of  the  Dent  Blanche  is  regard- 
ed almost  exactly  in  profile.  From 
thence  it  is  seen  that  the  angle  of  the 
face  scarcely  exceeds  thirty  degrees, 
and  after  observing  this  I  concluded 
that  the  face  would,  in  all  probability, 
give  an  easier  path  to  the  summit  than 
the  crest  of  the  very  jagged  ridge  which 
was  followed  by  Mr.  Kennedy. 

We  zigzagged  up  the  glacier  along  the 
foot  of  the  face,  and  looked  for  a  way 
on  to  it.  We  looked  for  some  time  in 
vain,  for  a  mighty  bergschrund  effect- 
ually prevented  approach,  and,  like  a 
fortress'  moat,  protected  the  wall  from 
assault.  We  went  up  and  up,  until,  I 
suppose,  we  were  not  more  than  a  thou- 
sand feet  below  the  point  marked  3912 
metres :  then  a  bridge  was  discovered, 
and  we  dropped  down  on  hands  and 
knees  to  cross  it. 

A  bergschrund,  it  has  been  said,  is  a 
schrund  and  something  more  than  a 
schrund.  A  schrund  is  simply  a  big 
crevasse :  a  bergschrund  is  frequently, 
but  not  always,  a  big  crevasse.  The 
term  is  applied  to  the  last  of  the  cre- 
vasses one  finds,  in  ascending,  before 
quitting  the  glacier  and  taking  to  the 
rocks  which  bound  it.  It  is  the  moun- 
tains' schrund.  Sometimes  it  is  very 
large,  but  early  in  the  season  (that  is  to 
say,  in  the  month  of  June  or  before) 
bergschrunds  are  usually  snowed  up 
or  well  bridged  over,  and  do  not  give 
much  trouble.  Later  in  the  year,  say 
in  August,  they  are  frequently  very  great 
hindrances,  and  occasionally  are  com- 
pletely impassable. 

We  crossed  the  bergschrund  of  the 
Dent  Blanche,  I  suppose,  at  a  height  of 
about  twelve  thousand  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea.  Our  work  may  be  said 
to  have  commenced  at  that  point.  The 
face,  although  not  steep  in  its  general 
inclination,  was  so  cut  up  by  little  ridges 
and  cliffs,  and  so  seamed  with  incipient 
couloirs,  that  it  had  all  the  difficulty  of  a 
much  more  precipitous  slope.  The  dif- 
ficulties were  never  great,  but  they  were 
numerous,  and  made  a  very  respectable 
total  when  put  together.  We  passed 
the  bergschrund  soon  after  nine  in  the 
morning,  and  during  the  next  eleven 


hours  halted  only  five  and  forty  min- 
utes. The  whole  of  the  remainder  of 
the  time  was  occupied  in  ascending  and 
descending  the  twenty-four  hundred  feet 
which  compose  this  south-western  face ; 
and  inasmuch  as  one  thousand  feet  per 
hour  (taking  the  mean  of  asrprrt  and 
descent)  is  an  ordinary  rate  of  progres- 
sion, it  is  tolerably  certain  that  the  Dent 
Blanche  is  a  mountain  of  exceptional 
difficulty. 

The  hindrances  opposed  to  us  by  the 
mountain  itself  were,  however,  as  noth- 
ing compared  with  the  atmospheric  ob- 
structions. It  is  true  there  was  plenty 
of — "Are  you  fast,  Aimer?"  "Yes." 
"Go  ahead,  Biener."  Biener,  made  se- 
cure, cried,  "Come  on,  sir,"  and  mon- 
sieur endeavored.  "No,  no,"  said  Ai- 
mer, "not  there — here!"  pointing  with 
his  baton  to  the  right  place  to  clutch. 
Then  'twas  Croz's  turn,  and  we  all  drew 
in  the  rope  as  the  great  man  followed. 
"Forward"  once  more — and  so  on. 

Five  hundred  feet  of  this  kind  of  work 
had  been  accomplished  when  we  were 
saluted  (not  entirely  unexpectedly)  by 
the  first  gust  of  a  hurricane  which  was 
raging  above.  The  day  was  a  lovely 
one  for  dwellers  in  the  valleys,  but  we 
had  long  ago  noted  some  light,  gossamer 
clouds  that  were  hovering  round  our 
summit,  being  drawn  out  in  a  suspicious 
manner  into  long,  silky  threads.  Croz, 
indeed,  prophesied  before  we  had  cross- 
ed the  schrund  that  we  should  be  beaten 
by  the  wind,  and  had  advised  that  we 
should  return.  But  I  had  retorted,  "  No, 
my  good  Croz,  you  said  just  now, '  Dent 
Blanche  is  best:'  we  must  go  up  the 
Dent  Blanche." 

I  have  a  very  lively  and  disagreeable 
recollection  of  this  wind.  Upon  the  out- 
skirts of  the  disturbed  region  it  was  only 
felt  occasionally.  It  then  seemed  to 
make  rushes  at  one  particular  man,  and 
when  it  had  discomfited  him,  it  whisked 
itself  away  to  some  far-off  spot,  only  to 
return  presently  in  greater  force  than 
before. 

My  old  enemy,  the  Matterhorn,  seen 
across  the  basin  of  the  Z'Muttgletscher, 
looked  totally  unassailable.  "  Do  you 
think,"  the  men  asked,  "that  you  or  any 


nS 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


one  else  will  ever  get  up  that  moun- 
tain ?"  And  when,  undismayed  by  their 
ridicule,  I  stoutly  answered,  "Yes,  but 
not  upon  that  side,"  they  burst  into 
derisive  chuckles.  I  must  confess  that 
my  hopes  sank,  for  nothing  can  look, 
or  be,  more  completely  inaccessible 
than  the  Matterhorn  on  its  northern 
and  north-west  sides. 

"  Forward"  once  again.  We  over- 
topped the  Dent  d'Herens.  "Not  a 
thousand  feet  more  :  in  three  hours  we 
shall  be  on  the  summit."  "You  mean 
ten"  echoed  Croz,  so  slow  had  been 
the  progress.  But  I  was  not  far  wrong 
in  the  estimate.  At  3.15  we  struck 
the  great  ridge  followed  by  Mr.  Ken- 
nedy, close  to  the  top  of  the  mountain. 
The  wind  and  cold  were  terrible  there. 
Progress  was  oftentimes  impossible,  and 
we  waited,  crouching  under  the  lee  of 
rocks,  listening  to  "the  shrieking  of  the 
mindless  wind,"  while  the  blasts  swept 
across,  tearing  off  the  upper  snow  and 
blowing  it  away  in  streamers  over  the 
Schonbiihl  glacier — "nothing  seen  ex- 
cept an  indescribable  writhing  in  the 
air,  like  the  wind  made  visible." 

Our  goal  was  concealed  by  the  mist, 
though  it  was  only  a  few  yards  away, 
and  Croz's  prophecy  that  we  should 
stay  all  night  upon  the  summit  seemed 
likely  to  come  true.  The  men  rose  with 
the  occasion,  although  even  their  ringers 
had  nearly  lost  sensation.  There  were 
no  murinurings  nor  suggestions  of  re- 
turn, and  they  pressed  on  for  the  little 
white  cone  which  they  knew  must  be 
near  at  hand.  Stopped  again — a  big 
mass  perched  loosely  on  the  ridge  barred 
the  way :  we  could  not  crawl  over  and 
scarcely  dared  creep  round  it.  The 
wine  went  round  for  the  last  time.  The 
liquor  was  half  frozen — still  we  would 
more  of  it.  It  was  all  gone  :  the  bottle 
was  left  behind,  and  we  pushed  on,  for 
there  was  a  lull. 

The  end  came  almost  before  it  was 
expected.  The  clouds  opened,  and  I 
saw  that  we  were  all  but  upon  the  high- 
est point,  and  that  between  us  and  it, 
about  twenty  yards  off,  there  was  a  little 
artificial  pile  of  stones.  Kennedy  was 
a  true  man — it  was  a  cairn  which  he 


had  erected.  "What  is  that,  Croz?" 
"Homme  de  pierres"  he  bawled.  It 
was  needless  to  proceed  farther  :  I  jerked 
the  rope  from  Biener,  and  motioned  that 
we  would  go  back.  He  did  the  same 
to  Aimer,  and  we  turned  immediately. 
They  did  not  see  the  stones  (they  were 
cutting  footsteps),  and  misinterpreted  the 
reason  of  the  retreat.  Voices  were  in- 
audible and  explanations  impossible. 

We  commenced  the  descent  of  the 
face.  It  was  hideous  work.  The  men 
looked  like  impersonations  of  Winter, 
with  their  hair  all  frosted  and  their  beards 
matted  with  ice.  My  hands  were  numb- 
ed— dead.  I  begged  the  others  to  stop. 
"  We  cannot  afford  to  stop :  we  must  con- 
tinue to  move,"  was  their  reply.  They 
were  right :  to  stop  was  to  be  entirely 
frozen.  So  we  went  down,  gripping  rocks 
varnished  with  ice,  which  pulled  the  skin 
from  the  fingers.  Gloves  were  useless  : 
they  became  iced  too,  and  the  batons 
slid  through  them  as  slippery  as  eels. 
The  iron  of  the  axes  stuck  to  the  fingers 
— it  felt  red  hot ;  but  it  was  useless  to 
shrink  :  the  rocks  and  the  axes  had  to 
be  firmly  grasped — no  faltering  would  do 
here. 

We  turned  back  at  4.12  p.  M.,  and  at 
8.15  crossed  the  bergschrund  again,  not 
having  halted  for  a  minute  upon  the  en- 
tire descent.  During  the  last  two  hours 
it  was  windless,  but  time  was  of  such 
vital  importance  that  we  pressed  on  in- 
cessantly, and  did  not  stop  until  we  were 
fairly  upon  the  glacier.  Then  we  took 
stock  of  what  remained  of  the  tips  of 
our  fingers.  There  was  not  much  skin 
left :  they  were  perfectly  raw,  and  for 
weeks  afterward  I  was  reminded  of  the 
ascent  of  the  Dent  Blanche  by  the 
twinges  which  I  felt  when  I  pulled  on 
my  boots.  The  others  escaped  with 
some  slight  frost-bites,  and  altogether 
we  had  reason  to  congratulate  ourselves 
that  we.  got  off  so  lightly.  The  men 
complimented  me  upon  the  descent,  and 
I  could  do  the  same  honestly  by  them. 
If  they  had  worked  less  vigorously  or 
harmoniously,  we  should  have  been  be- 
nighted upon  the  face,  where  there  was 
not  a  single  spot  upon  which  it  was  pos 
sible  to  sit ;  and  if  that  had  happened, 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


119 


I  do  not  think  that  one  would  have  sur- 
vived to  tell  the  tale. 

We  made  the  descent  of  the  glacier  in 
a  mist,  and  of  the  moraine  at  its  base 
and  of  the  slopes  below  in  total  dark- 
ness, and  regained  the  chalets  of  Abri- 
colla  at  11.45  p-  M-  We  had  been  ab- 
sent eighteen  and  a  half  hours,  and  out 
of  that  time  had  been  going  not  less 
than  seventeen.  That  night  we  slept 
the  sleep  of  those  who  are  thoroughly 
tired.* 

Two  days  afterward,  when  walking 
into  Zermatt,  whom  should  we  meet  but 
Mr.  Kennedy!  "Hullo!"  we  said,  "we 


T.  S.   KENNEDY. 

have  just  seen  your  cairn  on  the  top  of 
the  Dent  Blanche."  "  No,  you  haven't," 
he  answered  very  positively.  "  What  do 
you  mean?"  "Why,  that  you  cannot 
have  seen  my  cairn,  because  I  didn't 
make  one!"  "Well,  but  we  saw  a 
cairn."  "No  doubt:  it  was  made  by  a 
man  who  went  up  the  mountain  last  year 
with  Lauener  and  Zurfluh."  "O-o-h!" 
we  said,  rather  disgusted  at  hearing  news 
when  we  expected  to  communicate  some 
-"O-o-h!  Good-morning,  Kennedy." 
Before  this  happened  we  managed  to 
lose  our  way  upon  the  Col  d'Herens,  but 
an  account  of  that  must  be  reserved  for 
the  next  chapter. 

*  The  ascent  of  the  Dent  Blanche  is  the  hardest 
that  I  have  made.  There  was  nothing  upon  it  so 
difficult  as  the  last  five  hundred  feet  of  the  Pointe  des 
Ecrins,  but  on  the  other  hand,  there  was  hardly  a 
step  upon  it  which  was  positively  easy.  The  whole 
of  the  face  required  actual  climbing.  There  was 
probably  very  little  difference  in  difficulty  between 
the  route  we  took  in  1865  and  that  followed  by  Mr. 
Kennedy  in  1862. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

LOST  ON  THE  COL  D'HERKNS. — MY  SF.VENTH 
ATTEMPT   TO  ASCEND   THE    MATTER HORN. 

WE  should  have  started  for  Zermatt 
about  7  A.  M.  on  the  iSth,  had  not  Biener 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  go  to  mass  at 
Evolene,  a  village  about  two  and  a^  half 
hours  from  Abricolla.  He  received  per- 
mission, on  the  condition  that  he  return- 
ed not  later  than  mid-day,  but  he  did 
not  come  back  until  2.30  p.  M.,  and  we 
thereby  got  into  a  pretty  little  mess. 

The  pass  which  we  were  about  to 
traverse  to  Zermatt — the  Col  d'Herens — 
is  one  of  the  few  glacier-passes  in  this 
district  which  have  been  known  almost 
from  time  immemorial.  It  is  frequently 
crossed  in  the  summer  season,  and  is  a 
very  easy  route,  notwithstanding  that  the 
summit  of  the  pass  is  11,417  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea. 

From  Abricolla  to  the  summit  the  way 
lies  chiefly  over  the  flat  Glacier  de  Fer- 
pecle.  The  walk  is  of  the  most  straight- 
forward kind.  The  glacier  rises  in  gentle 
undulations,  its  crevasses  are  small  and 
easily  avoided,  and  all  you  have  to  do, 
after  once  getting  upon  the  ice,  is  to  pro- 
ceed due  south  in  the  most  direct  man- 
ner possible.  If  you  do  so,  in  two  hours 
you  should  be  upon  the  summit  of  the 
pass. 

We  tied  ourselves  in  line,  of  course, 
when  we  entered  upon  the  glacier,  and 
placed  Biener  to  lead,  as  he  had  fre- 
quently crossed  the  pass,  supposing  thai 
his  local  knowledge  might  save  us  some 
time  upon  the  other  side.  We  had  pro- 
ceeded, I  suppose,  about  halfway  up, 
when  a  little  thin  cloud  dropped  down 
upon  us  from  above,  but  it  was  so  light, 
so  gauzy,  that  we  did  not  for  a  moment 
suppose  that  it  would  become  embarrass- 
ing, and  hence  I  neglected  to  note  at 
the  proper  moment  the  course  which  wt 
should  steer — that  is  to  say,  to  observe 
our  precise  situation  in  regard  to  tlu 
summit  of  the  pass. 

For  some  little  time  Biener  progress- 
ed steadily,  making  a  tolerably  straight 
track,  but  at  length  he  wavered,  and 
deviated  sometimes  to  the  right  and 
sometimes  to  the  left.  Croz  rushed  for- 
ward directly  he  saw  this,  and,  taking 


I2O 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS   IN  1860-' 69. 


the  poor  young  man  by  his  shoulders, 
gave  him  a  good  shaking,  told  him  that 
he  was  an  imbecile,  to  untie  himself  at 
once,  and  go  to  the  rear.  Biener  looked 
half  frightened,  and  obeyed  without  a 
murmur.  Croz  led  off  briskly,  and 
made  a  good  straight  track  for  a  few 
minutes,  but  then,  it  seemed  to  me,  be- 
gan to  move  steadily  round  to  the  left. 
I  looked  back,  but  the  mist  was  now  too 
thick  to  see  our  traces,  and  so  we  con- 
tinued to  follow  our  leader.  At  last  the 
others  (who  were  behind,  and  in  a  bet- 
ter position  to  judge)  thought  the  same 
as  I  did,  and  we  pulled  up  Croz  to  de- 
liver our  opinion.  He  took  our  criticism 
in  good  part,  but  when  Biener  opened 
his  mouth,  that  was  too  much  for  him  to 
stand,  and  he  told  the  young  man  again, 
"You  are  imbecile:  I  bet  you  twenty 
francs  to  one  that  my  track  is  better  than 
yours  —  twenty  francs  !  Now  then,  im- 
becile!" 

Aimer  went  to  the  front.  He  com- 
menced by  returning  in  the  track  for  a 
hundred  yards  or  so,  and  then  started 
off  at  a  tangent  from  Croz's  curve.  We 
kept  this  course  for  half  an  hour,  and 
then  were  certain  that  we  were  not  on 
the  right  route,  because  the  snow  be- 
came decidedly  steep.  We  bore  away 
more  and  more  to  the  right  to  avoid  this 
steep  bank,  but  at  last  I  rebelled,  as  we 
had  for  some  time  been  going  almost 
south-west,  which  was  altogether  the 
wrong  direction.  After  a  long  discus- 
sion we  returned  some  distance  in  our 
track,  and  then  steered  a  little  east  of 
south,  but  we  continually  met  steep 
snow-slopes,  and  to  avoid  them  went 
right  or  left  as  the  case  might  require. 

We  were  greatly  puzzled,  and  could 
not  in  the  least  tell  whether  we  were  too 
near  the  Dent  Blanche  or  too  close  to 
the  Tete  Blanche.  The  mists  had  thick- 
ened, and  were  now  as  dense  as  a  mod- 
erate London  fog.  There  were  no  rocks 
or  echoes  to  direct  us,  and  the  guidance 
of  the  compass  brought  us  invariably 
against  these  steep  snow-banks.  The 
men  were  fairly  "beaten :  they  had  all 
had  a  try,  or  more  than  one,  and  at  last 
gave  it  up  as  a  bad  job,  and  asked  what 
was  to  be  done.  It  was  7.30  P.  M.,  and 


only  an  hour  of  daylight  was  left.  We 
were  beginning  to  feel  used  up,  for  we 
had  wandered  about  at  tiptop  speed  for 
the  last  three  hours  and  a  half;  so  I 
said,  "This  is  my  advice  :  let  us  turn  in 
our  track,  and  go  back  as  hard  as  ever 
we  can,  not  quitting  the  track  for  an  in- 
stant." They  were  well  content,  but  just 
as  we  were  starting  off  the  clouds  lifted 
a  little,  and  we  thought  we  saw  the  col. 
It  was  then  to  our  right,  and  we  went  at 
it  with  a  dash,  but  before  we  had  gone 
a  hundred  paces  down  came  the  mist 
again.  We  kept  on  nevertheless  for 
twenty  minutes,  and  then,  as  darkness 
was  perceptibly  coming  on,  and  the 
snow  was  yet  rising  in  front,  we  turned 
back,  and  by  running  down  the  entire 
distance  managed  to  get  clear  of  the 
Ferpecle  glacier  just  as  it  became  pitch- 
dark.  We  arrived  at  our  cheerless  chalet 
in  due  course,  and  went  to  bed  supper- 
less,  for  our  food  was  gone  —  all  very 
sulky,  not  to  say  savage,  agreeing  in 
nothing  except  in  bullying  Biener. 

At  7  A.  M.  on  the  igth  we  set  out,  for 
the  third  time,  for  the  Col  d'Herens.  It 
was  a  fine  day,  and  we  gradually  recov- 
ered our  tempers  as  we  saw  the  follies 
which  had  been  committed  on  the  pre- 
vious evening.  Biener's  wavering  track 
was  not  so  bad,  but  Croz  had  swerved 
from  the  right  route  from  the  first,  and 
had  traced  a  complete  semicircle,  so  that 
when  we  stopped  him  we  were  facing 
Abricolla,  whence  we  had  started.  Ai- 
mer had  commenced  with  great  discre- 
tion, but  he  kept  on  too  long,  and  cross- 
ed the  proper  route.  When  I  stopped 
them  (because  we  were  going  south-west) 
we  were  a  long  way  up  the  Tete  Blanche ! 
Our  last  attempt  was  in  the  right  direc- 
tion :  we  were  actually  upon  the  summit 
of  the  pass,  and  in  another  ten  yards 
we  should  have  commenced  to  go  down 
hill !  It  is  needless  to  point  out  that  if 
the  compass  had  been  looked  to  at  the 
proper  moment — that  is,  immediately  the 
mist  came  down — we  should  have  avoid- 
ed all  our  troubles.  It  was  of  little  use 
afterward,  except  to  tell  us  when  we  were 
going  wrong. 

We  arrived  at  Zermatt  in  six  and  a 
half  hours'  walking  from  Abricolla,  and 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


12] 


Seller's  hospitable  reception  set  us  all 
right  again.  On  the  2oth  we  crossed  the 
Theodule  pass,  and  diverged  from  its 
summit  up  the  Theodulhorn  (11,391)  to 
examine  a  route  which  I  suggested  for 
the  ascent  of  the  Matterhorn  ;  but  before 
continuing  an  account  of  our  proceed- 
ings, I  must  stop  for  a  minute  to  explain 
why  this  new  route  was  proposed,  in 
place  of  that  up  the  south-western  ridge. 

The  Matterhorn  may  be  divided  into 
three  sections — the  first  facing  the  Z'Mutt- 
gletscher,  which  looks,  and  is,  complete- 
ly unassailable ;  the  second  facing  the 
east,  which  seems  inaccessibility  itself; 
the  third  facing  Breuil,  which  does  not 
look  entirely  hopeless.  It  was  from  this 
last  direction  that  all  my  previous  at- 
tempts were  made.  It  was  by  the  south- 
western ridge,  it  will  be  remembered,  that 
not  only  I,  but  Mr.  Hawkins,  Professor 
Tyndall  and  the  chasseurs  of  Val  Tour- 
nanche,  essayed  to  climb  the  mountain. 
Why,  then,  abandon  a  route  which  had 
been  shown  to  be  feasible  up  to  a  certain 
point  ? 

I  gave  it  up  for  four  reasons  :  I.  On 
account  of  my  growing  disinclination  for 
aretes,  and  preference  for  snow  and  rock 
faces.  2.  Because  I  was  persuaded  that 
meteorological  disturbances  (by  which 
we  had  been  baffled  several  times)  might 
be  expected  to  occur  again  and  again. 
3.  Because  I  found  that  the  east  face 
was  a  gross  imposition :  it  looked  not 
far  from  perpendicular,  while  its  angle 
was,  in  fact,  scarcely  more  than  40°.  4. 
Because  I  observed  for  myself  that  the 
strata  of  the  mountain  dipped  to  the 
west-south-west.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
say  anything  more  than  has  been  already 
said  upon  the  first  two  of  these  four  points, 
but  upon  the  latter  two  a  few  words  are 
indispensable.  Let  us  consider,  first,  why 
most  persons  receive  such  an  exaggerated 
impression  of  the  steepness  of  the  eastern 
face. 

When  one  looks  at  the  Matterhorn 
from  Zermatt,  the  mountain  is  regarded 
(nearly)  from  the  north-east.  The  face 
that  fronts  the  east  is  consequently  neith- 
er seen  in  profile  nor  in  full  front,  but 
almost  halfway  between  the  two :  it 
looks,  therefore,  more  steep  than  it  really 


is.  The  majority  of  those  who  visit  Zer- 
matt go  up  to  the  Riffelberg  or  to  the 
Gornergrat,  and  from  these  places  the 
mountain  naturally  looks  still  more  pre- 
cipitous, because  its  eastern  face  (which 
is  almost  all  that  is  seen  of  it)  is  viewed 
more  directly  in  front.  From  the_  Riffel 
hotel  the  slope  seems  to  be  set  at  an 
angle  of  seventy  degrees.  If  the  tourist 
continues  to  go  southward,  and  crosses 
the  Theodule  pass,  he  gets,  at  one  point, 
immediately  in  front  of  the  eastern  face, 
which  then  seems  to  be  absolutely  per- 
pendicular. Comparatively  few  persons 
correct  the  erroneous  impressions  they 
receive  in  these  quarters  by  studying  the 
face  in  profile,  and  most  go  away  with  a 
very  incorrect  and  exaggerated  idea  of 
the  precipitousness  of  this  side  of  the 
mountain,  because  they  have  considered 
the  question  from  one  point  of  view  alone. 
Several  years  passed  away  before  I 
shook  myself  clear  of  my  early  and  false 
impressions  regarding  the  steepness  of 
this  side  of  the  Matterhorn.  First  of 
all,  I  noticed  that  there  were  places  on 
this  eastern  face  where  snow  remained 
permanently  all  the  year  round.  I  do 
not  speak  of  snow  in  gullies,  but  of  the 
considerable  slopes  which  are  seen  in 
the  accompanying  engraving  about  half- 
way up  the  face.  Such  beds  as  these 
could  not  continue  to  remain  throughout 
the  summer  unless  the  snow  had  been 
able  to  accumulate  in  the  winter  in  large 
masses ;  and  snow  cannot  accumulate 
and  remain  in  large  masses,  in  a  situa- 
tion such  as  this,  at  angles  much  exceed- 
ing forty-five  degrees.*  Hence  I  was 
bound  to  conclude  that  the  eastern  face 
was  many  degrees  removed  from  perpen- 
dicularity ;  and  to  be  sure  on  this  point, 
I  went  to  the  slopes  between  the  Z'Mutt- 
gletscher  and  the  Matterhorngletscher, 
above  the  chalets  of  Staffel,  whence  the 
face  could  be  seen  in  profile.  Its  ap- 
pearance from  this  direction  would  be 
amazing  to  one  who  had  seen  it  only 
from  the  east.  It  looks  so  totally  differ- 
ent from  the  apparently  sheer  and  per- 
fectly unclimbable  cliff  one  sees  from 

*  I  prefer  to  be  on  the  safe  side.  My  impression  is, 
that  snow  cannot  accumulate  in  large  masses  at  forty- 
five  degrees. 


122 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


the  Riffelberg  that  it  is  hard  to  believe 
the  two  slopes  are  one  and  the  same 
thing.  Its  angle  scarcely  exceeds  forty 
degrees. 

A  great  step  was  made  when  this  was 
learned.  This  knowledge  alone  would 
not,  however,  have  caused  me  to  try  an 
ascent  by  the  eastern  face  instead  of  by 
the  south-west  ridge.  Forty  degrees  may 
not  seem  a  formidable  inclination  to  the 
reader,  nor  is  it  for  only  a  small  cliff. 
But  it  is  very  unusual  to  find  so  steep  a 
gradient  maintained  continuously  as  the 
general  angle  of  a  great  mountain-slope, 
and  very  few  instances  can  be  quoted 
from  the  High  Alps  of  such  an  angle 
being  preserved  over  a  rise  of  three 
thousand  feet. 

1  do  not  think  that  the  steepness  or  the 
height  of  this  cliff  would  have  deterred 
climbers  from  attempting  to  ascend  it,  if 
it  had  not,  in  addition,  looked  so  repul- 
sively smooth.  Men  despaired  of  find- 
ing anything  to  grasp.  Now,  some  of 
the  difficulties  of  the  south-west  ridge 
came  from  the  smoothness  of  the  rocks, 
although  that  ridge,  even  from  a  dis- 
tance, seemed  to  be  well  broken  up. 
How  much  greater,  then,  might  not  have 
been  the  difficulty  of  climbing  a  face 
which  looked  smooth  and  unbroken 
close  at  hand  ? 

A  moie  serious  hindrance  to  mounting 
the  south-west  ridge 
is  found  in  the  dip  of 
its  rocks  to  the  west- 
south-west.  The 
great  mass  of  the 
Matterhorn,  it  is 
now  well  ascertain- 
ed, is  composed  of 
regularly  stratified 
rocks,  which  rise  to- 
ward the  east.  It 
has  been  mentioned 
in  the  text,  more  than  once,  that  the 
rocks  on  some  portions  of  the  ridge 
leading  from  the  Col  du  Lion  to  the 
summit  dip  outward,  and  that  fractured 
edges  overhang.  This  is  shown  very 
clearly  in  the  annexed  diagram,  Fig.  I. 
It  will  be  readily  understood  that  such 
an  arrangement  is  not  favorable  for 
climbers,  and  that  the  degree  of  facility 


Fig.  i. 


with  which  rocks  can  be  ascended  that 
are  so  disposed  must  depend  very  much 
upon  the  frequency  or  paucity  of  fis- 
sures and  joints.  The  rocks  of  the 
south  -  west  ridge  are  sufficiently  pro- 
vided with  cracks,  but  if  it  were  other- 
wise, their  texture  and  arrangement 
would  render  them  unassailable.* 

It  is  not  possible  to  go  a  single  time 
upon  the  rocks  of  the  south-west  ridge, 
from  the  Col  du  Lion  to  the  foot  of 
the  Great  Tower,  without  observing  the 
prevalence  of  their  outward  dip,  and 
that  their  fractured  edges  have  a  tend- 
ency to  overhang ;  nor  can  one  fail  to 
notice  that  it  is  upon  this  account  the 
debris  which  is  rent  off  by  frost  does  not 
remain  in  situ,  but  pours  down  in  show- 
ers over  the  surrounding  cliffs.  Each 
day's  work,  so  to  speak,  is  cleared  away 
— the  ridge  is  swept  clean :  there  is 
scarcely  anything  seen  but  firm  rock.f 

The  fact  that  the  mountain  is  com- 
posed of  a  series  of  stratified  beds  was 
pointed  out  long  ago.  De  Saussure  re- 
marked it,  and  recorded  explicitly  in  his 
Travels  (12243)  tnat  tneY  "rose  to  the 
north-east  at  an  angle  of  about  forty- 
five  degrees."  Forbes  noticed  it  also, 
but  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  the  beds, 
were ' '  less  inclined,  or  nearly  horizontal." 
He  added,  "  De  Saussure  is  no  doubt 
correct."  The  truth,  I  think,  lies  between 
the  two. 

I  was  acquainted  with  both  of  the 
above-quoted  passages,  but  did  not  turn 
the  knowledge  to  any  practical  account 
until  I  re-observed  the  same  fact  for  my- 
self. It  was  not  until  after  my  repulse 
in  1863  that  I  referred  the  peculiar  diffi- 
culties of  the  south-west  ridge  to  the  dip 
of  the  strata,  but  when  once  persuaded 
that  structure  and  not  texture  was  the 
real  impediment,  it  was  reasonable  to 
infer  that  the  opposite  side — that  is  to 

*  Weathered  granite  is  an  admirable  rock  to  climb, 
its  gritty  texture  giving  excellent  hold  to  the  nails  in 
one's  boots.  But  upon  such  metamorphic  schists  as 
compose  the  mass  of  the  great  peak  of  the  Matter- 
horn  the  texture  of  the  rock  itself  is  of  no  value. 

f  I  refer  here  only  to  that  portion  of  the  ridge  which 
is  between  the  Col  du  Lion  and  the  Great  Tower. 
The  remarks  would  not  apply  to  the  rocks  higher  up ; 
higher  still  the  rocks  are  firm  again  ;  yet  higher  (upon 
the  "  Shoulder  ")  they  are  much  disintegrated;  and 
then,  upon  the  final  peak,  they  are  again  firm. 


THE  MATTERHORN  FROM  THE  RIFFELBERG. 


Page  121, 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


123 


Fig.  2. 


say,  the  eastern  face — might  be  compara- 
tively easy;  in  brief,  that  an  arrange- 
ment should 
be  found  like 
Fig.  2,  instead 
of  like  Fig.  I. 
This  trivial 
deduction  was 
the  key  to  the 
ascent  of  the 
Matterhorn. 

The  point 
was,  Did  the  strata  continue  with  a  sim- 
ilar dip  throughout  the  mountain  ?  If 
they  did,  then  this  great  eastern  face, 
instead  of  being  hopelessly  impracti- 
cable, should  be  quite  the  reverse.  In 
fact,  it  should  be  a  great  natural  stair- 
case, with  steps  inclining  inward ;  and 
if  it  were  so,  its  smooth  aspect  might  be 
of  no  account,  for  the  smallest  steps,  in- 
clined in  this  fashion,  would  afford  good 
footing. 

They  did  so,  so  far  as  one  could  judge 
from  a  distance.  When  snow  fell  in  the 
summer-time,  it  brought  out  long  terraced 
lines  upon  the  mountain,  rudely  parallel 
to  each  other ;  and  the  eastern  face  on 
those  occasions  was  often  whitened  al- 
most completely  over ;  while  the  other 
sides,  with  the  exception  of  the  powder- 
ed terraces,  remained  black,  for  the  snow 
could  not  rest  upon  them. 

The  very  outline  of  the  mountain,  too, 
confirmed  the  conjecture  that  its  struc- 
ture would  assist  an  ascent  on  the  east- 
ern face,  although  it  opposed  one  on  all 
other  sides.  Look  at  any  photograph 
of  the  peak  from  the  north-east,  and 
you  will  see  that  upon  the  right-hand 
side  (that  facing  the  Z'Muttgletscher) 
there  is  an  incessant  repetition  of  over- 
hanging cliffs  and  of  slopes,  all  trending 
downward ;  in  short,  that  the  character  of 
the  whole  of  that  side  is  similar  to  Fig.  I , 
p.  122  ;  and  that  upon  the  left  hand  (or 
south-east)  ridge  the  forms,  so  far  as  they 
go,  are  suggestive  of  the  structure  shown 
by  Fig.  2,  above.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  the  contours  of  the  mountain,  seen 
from  this  direction,  have  been  largely  in- 
fluenced by  the  direction  of  its  beds. 

It  was  not  therefore  from  a  freak  that 
I  invited  Mr.  Reilly  to  join  in  an  attack 


upon  the  eastern  face,  but  from  a  grad- 
ually-acquired conviction  that  it  would 
prove  to  give  the  easiest  path  to  the 
summit ;  and  if  we  had  not  been  obliged 
to  part  the  mountain  would  doubtless 
have  been  ascended  in  1864. 

My  guides  readily  admitted  that  they 
had  been  greatly  deceived  as  to  the 
steepness  of  the  eastern  face,  when  they 
were  halted  to  look  at  it  in  profile  as  we 
came  down  the  Z'Muttgletscher  on  our 
way  to  Zermatt,  but  they  were  far  from 
being  satisfied  that  it  would  turn  out  to 
be  easy  to  climb,  and  Aimer  and  Biener 
expressed  themselves  decidedly  averse 
to  making  an  attempt  upon  it.  I  gave 
way  temporarily  before  their  evident  re- 
luctance, and  we  made  the  ascent  of  the 
Theodulhorn  to  examine  an  alternative 
route,  which  I  expected  would  commend 
itself  to  them  in  preference  to  the  other, 
as  a  great  part  of  it  led  over  snow. 

There  is  an  immense  gully  in  the  Mat- 
terhorn which  leads  up  from  the  Glacier 
du  Mont  Cervin  to  a  point  high  up  on 
the  south-eastern  ridge.  I  proposed  to 
ascend  this  to  its  head,  and  to  cross  over 
the  south-east  ridge  on  to  the  eastern 
face.  This  would  have  brought  us  on 
a  level  with  the  bottom  of  the  great  snow- 
slope  shown  upon  the  centre  of  the  east- 
ern face  in  the  engraving.  This  snow- 
slope  was  to  be  crossed  diagonally,  with 
the  view  of  arriving  at  the  snow  upon 
the  north-east  ridge,  which  is  shown 
upon  the  same  engraving  about  half  an 
inch  from  the  summit.  The  remainder 
of  the  ascent  was  to  be  made  by  the 
broken  rocks,  mixed  with  snow,  upon 
the  north  side  of  the  mountain.  Croz 
caught  the  idea  immediately,  and  thought 
the  plan  feasible  :  details  were  settled, 
and  we  descended  to  Breuil.  Luc  Mey- 
net  the  hunchback  was  summoned,  and 
expressed  himself  delighted  to  resume 
his  old  vocation  of  tent-bearer;  and 
Favre's  kitchen  was  soon  in  commotion 
preparing  three  days'  rations,  for  I  in- 
tended to  take  that  amount  of  time  over 
the  affair — to  sleep  on  the  first  night 
upon  the  rocks  at  the  top  of  the  gully,  to 
make  a  push  for  the  summit,  and  to  re- 
turn to  the  tent  on  the  second  day ;  and 
upon  the  third  to  come  back  to  Breuil. 


I24 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'( 


We  started  at  5.45  A.  M.  on  June  21, 
and  followed  the  route  of  the  Breuiljoch 
for  three  hours.  We  were  then  in  full 
view  of  our  gully,  and  turned  off  at 
right  angles  for  it.  The  closer  we  ap- 
proached the  more  favorable  did  it  look. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  snow  in  it, 
which  was  evidently  at  a  small  angle, 
and  it  seemed  as  if  one-third  of  the 
ascent,  at  least,  would  be  a  very  simple 
matter.  Some  suspicious  marks  in  the 
snow  at  its  base  suggested  that  it  was 
not  free  from  falling  stones,  and  as  a 
measure  of  precaution  we  turned  off  on 
one  side,  worked  up  under  cover  of  the 
cliffs,  and  waited  to  see  if  anything 
should  descend.  Nothing  fell,  so  we 
proceeded  up  its  right  or  northern  side, 
sometimes  cutting  steps  up  the  snow, 
and  sometimes  mounting  by  the  rocks. 
Shortly  before  10  A.  M.  we  arrived  at  a 
convenient  place  for  a  halt,  and  stopped 
to  rest  upon  some  rocks  close  to  the 
snow  which  commanded  an  excellent 
view  of  the  gully. 

While  the  men  were  unpacking  the 
food  I  went  to  a  little  promontory  to 
examine  our  proposed  route  more  nar- 
rowly, and  to  admire  our  noble  couloir, 
which  led  straight  up  into  the  heart  of 
the  mountain  for  fully  one  thousand  feet. 
It  then  bent  toward  the  north,  and  ran 
up  to  the  crest  of  the  south-eastern  ridge. 
My  curiosity  was  piqued  to  know  what 
was  round  this  corner,  and  whilst  I  was 
gazing  up  at  it,  and  following  with  the 
eye  the  exquisitely  drawn  curves  which 
wandered  down  the  snow  in  the  gully, 
all  converging  to  a  large  rut  in  its  centre, 
I  saw  a  few  little  stones  skidding  down. 
I  consoled  myself  with  thinking  that 
they  would  not  interfere  with  us  if  we 
adhered  to  the  side.  But  then  a  larger 
one  came  down,  a  solitary  fellow,  rush- 
ing at  the  rate  of  sixty  miles  an  hour — 
and  anothc  ' — and  another.  I  was  un- 
willing to  n-.se  the  fears  of  the  men  un- 
necessarily, and  said  nothing  to  them. 
They  did  not  hear  the  stones.  Aimer 
was  seated  on  a  rock,  carving  large 
slices  from  a  leg  of  mutton,  the  others 
were  chatting,  and  the  first  intimation 
they  had  of  danger  was  from  a  crash,  a 
sudden  roar,  which  reverberated  awfully 


amongst  the  cliffs  ;  and  looking  up  they 
saw  rocks,  boulders  and  stones,  big  and 
little,  dart  round  the  corner  eight  hun- 
dred feet  or  so  above  us,  fly  with  fearful 
fury  against  the  opposite  cliffs,  rebound 
from  them  against  the  walls  on  our  side, 
and  descend;  some  ricochetting  from 
side  to  side  in  a  frantic  manner,  some 
bounding  down  in  leaps  of  a  hundred 
feet  or  more  over  the  snow,  and  more 
trailing  down  in  a  jumbled,  confused 
mass,  mixed  with  snow  and  ice,  deep- 
ening the  grooves  which  a  moment  be- 
fore had  excited  my  admiration. 

The  men  looked  wildly  around  for 
protection,  and,  dropping  the  food,  dash- 
ed under  cover  in  all  directions.  The 
precious  mutton  was  pitched  on  one  side, 
the  wine-bag  was  let  fall,  and  its  con- 
tents gushed  out  from  the  unclosed  neck, 
while  all  four  cowered  under  defending 
rocks,  endeavoring  to  make  themselves 
as  small  as  possible.  Let  it  not  be  sup- 
posed that  their  fright  was  unreasonable 
or  that  I  was  free  from  it.  I  took  good 
care  to  make  myself  safe,  and  went  and 
cringed  in  a  cleft  until  the  storm  had 
passed.  But  their  scramble  to  get  un- 
der shelter  was  indescribably  ludicrous. 
Such  a  panic  I  have  never  witnessed, 
before  or  since,  upon  a  mountain-side. 

This  ricochet  practice  was  a  novelty 
to  me.  It  arose,  of  course,  from  the 
couloir  being  bent,  and  from  the  falling 
rocks  having  acquired  great  pace  before 
they  passed  the  angle.  In  straight  gul- 
lies it  win  probably  never  be  experienced. 
The  rule  is,  as  I  have  already  remarked, 
that  falling  stones  keep  down  the  centres 
of  gullies,  and  you  are  out  of  harm's 
way  if  you  follow  the  sides. 

There  would  have  been  singularly 
little  amusement  and  very  great  risk  in 
mounting  this  gully,  and  we  turned  our 
backs  upon  it  with  perfect  unanimity. 
The  question  then  arose,  "What  is  to  be 
done  ?"  I  suggested  climbing  the  rocks 
above  us,  but  this  was  voted  impossible. 
I  thought  the  men  were  right,  but  would 
not  give  in  without  being  assured  of  the 
fact,  and  clambered  up  to  settle  the  ques- 
tion. In  a  few  minutes  I  was  brought 
to  a  halt.  "  My  forces  were  scattered  : 
the  little  hunchback  alone  was  closely 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


I25 


following  me,  with  a  broad  grin  upon 
his  face  and  the  tent  upon  his  shoulder ; 
Croz,  more  behind,  was  still  keeping  an 
eye  upon  his  monsieur ;  Aimer,  a  hun- 
dred feet  below,  sat  on  a  rock  with  his 
face  buried  in  his  hands;  Biener  was 
nowhere,  out  of  sight.  "  Come  down, 
come  down,"  shouted  Croz,  "it  is  use- 
less ;"  and  I  turned  at  length,  convinced 
that  it  was  even  as  he  said.  Thus  my 
little  plan  was  knocked  on  the  head, 
and  we  were  thrown  back  upon  the  orig- 
inal scheme. 

We  at  once  made  a  straight  track  for 
Mr.  Morshead's  Breuiljoch  (which  was 
the  most  direct  route  to  take  in  order  to 


get  to  the  Hornli,  where  we  intended  to 
sleep,  preparatory  to  attacking  the  east- 
ern face),  and  arrived  upon  its  summit 
at  12.30  P.M.  We  were  then  unexpect- 
edly checked.  The  pass,  as  one,  had 
vanished  !  and  we  found  ourselves  cut 
off  from  the  Furggengletscher  by  a  small 
but  precipitous  wall  of  rock  :  the  glacier 
had  shrunk  so  much  that  descent  was 
impracticable.  During  the  last  hour 
clouds  had  been  coming  up  from  the 
south  :  they  now  surrounded  us,  and  it 
began  to  blow  hard.  The  men  cluster- 
ed together,  and  advocated  leaving  the 
mountain  alone.  Aimer  asked,  with 
more  point  than  politeness,  "Why  don't 


MY  TENT-BEARER — THE   HUNCHBACK. 


you  try  to  go  up  a  mountain  which 
can  be  ascended?"  "It  is  impossible," 
chimed  in  Biener.  "Sir,"  said  Croz,  "if 
we  cross  to  the  other  side  we  shall  lose 
three  days,  and  very  likely  shall  not 
succeed.  You  want  to  make  ascents  in 
the  chain  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  I  believe 
they  can  be  made.  But  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  make  them  with  you  if  I  spend 
these  days  here,  for  I  must  be  at  Cha- 
mounix  on  the  27th."  There  was  force 
in  what  he  said,  and  his  words  made  me 
hesitate.  I  relied  upon  his  strong  arms 
for  some  work  which  it  was  expected 
would  be  unusually  difficult.  Snow  be- 
gan to  fall :  that  settled  the  matter,  and 


I  gave  the  word  to  retreat.  We  went 
back  to  Breuil,  and  on  to  Val  Tour- 
nanche,  where  we  slept;  and  the  next 
day  proceeded  to  Chatillon,  and  thence 
up  the  valley  of  Aosto  to  Cormayeur. 

I  cannot  but  regret  that  the  counsels 
of  the  guides  prevailed.  If  Croz  had 
not  uttered  his  well-intentioned  words  he 
might  still  have  been  living.  He  parted 
from  us  at  Chamounix  at  the  appointed 
time,  but  by  a  strange  chance  we  met 
again  at  Zermatt  three  weeks  later ;  and 
two  days  afterward  he  perished  before 
my  eyes  on  the  very  mountain  from 
which  we  turned  away,  at  his  advice 
on  the  2  ist  of  June. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

VALLEY   OF   AOSTA,    AND   ASCENT   OF    THE 
GRANDES    JORASSES. 

rT^HE  valley  of  Aosta  is  famous  for 
JL  its  bouquetins  and  infamous  for  its 
cretins.  The  bouquetin,  steinbock,  or 
ibex,  was  formerly  widely  distributed 
throughout  the  Alps.  It  is  now  confined 
almost  entirely,  or  absolutely,  to  a  small 
district  in  the  south  of  the  valley  of 
Aosta,  and  fears  have  been  repeatedly 
expressed  in  late  years  that  it  will  speed- 
ily become  extinct. 

But  the  most  sanguine  person  does 
not  imagine  that  cretinism  will  be  eradi- 
cated for  many  generations.  It  is  wide- 
ly spread  throughout  the  Alps,  it  is  by 
no  means  peculiar  to  the  valley  of  Aosta, 
but  nowhere  does  it  thrust  itself  more 
frequently  upon  the  attention  of  the 
traveler,  and  in  no  valley  where  "every 
prospect  pleases  "  is  one  so  often  and  so 
painfully  reminded  that  "  only  man  is 
vile." 

It  seems  premature  to  fear  that  the 
bouquetins  will  soon  become  extinct.  It 
is  not  easy  to  take  a  census  of  them,  for, 
although  they  have  local  habitations,  it 
is  extremely  difficult  to  find  them  at 
home.  But  there  is  good  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  there  are  at  least  six  hundred 
126 


still  roaming  over  the  mountains  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  valleys  of  Gri- 
sanche,  Rhemes,  Savaranche  and  Cogne. 

It  would  be  a  pity  if  it  were  otherwise. 
They  appeal  to  the  sympathies  of  all  as 
the  remnants  of  a  diminishing  race,  and 
no  mountaineer  or  athletic  person  could 
witness  without  sorrow  the  extinction  of 
an  animal  possessing  such  noble  quali- 
ties ;  which  a  few  months  after  birth  can 
jump  over  a  man's  head  at  a  bound, 
without  taking  a  run  ;  which  passes  its 
whole  life  in  a  constant  fight  for  exist- 
ence ;  which  has  such  a  keen  apprecia- 
tion of  the  beauties  of  Nature,  and  such 
disregard  of  pain,  that  it  will  "stand  for 
hours  like  a  statue  in  the  midst  of  the  bit- 
terest storm,  until  the  tips  of  its  ears  are 
frozen  "  !  and  which,  when  its  last  hour 
arrives,  "climbs  to  the  highest  mountain- 
peaks,  hangs  on  a  rock  with  its  horns, 
twists  itself  round  and  round  upon  them 
until  they  are  worn  off,  and  then  falls 
down  and  expires"!!*  Even  Tschudi 
himself  calls  this  story  wonderful.  He 
may  well  do  so.  I  disclaim  belief  in  it 
— the  bouquetin  is  too  fine  a  beast  to 
indulge  in  such  antics. 

Forty-five  keepers,  selected  from  the 
most  able  chasseurs  of  the  district,  guard 

*Tschudi's  Sketches  of  Nature  in  the  Alps. 


its  haunt 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


I27 


its  haunts.  Their  task  is  not  a  light  one, 
although  they  are  naturally  acquainted 
with  those  who  are  most  likely  to  attempt 
poaching.  If  they  were  withdrawn,  it 
would  not  be  long  before  the  ibex  would 
be  an  extinct  wild  animal,  so  far  as  the 
Alps  are  concerned.  The  passion  for 
killing  something,  and  the  present  value 
of  the  beast  itself,  would  soon  lead  to  its 
extermination.  For  as  meat  alone  the 


THE   BOUQUETIN. 

bouquetin  is  valuable,  the  gross  weight 
of  one  that  is  full  grown  amounting  to 
from  one  hundred  and  sixty  to  two  hun- 
dred pounds,  while  its  skin  and  horns 
are  worth  ten  pounds  and  upward,  ac- 
cording to  condition  and  dimensions. 

In  spite  of  the  keepers,  and  of  the 
severe  penalties  which  may  be  inflicted 
for  killing  a  bouquetin,  poaching  occurs 
constantly.  Knowing  that  this  was  the 
case,  I  inquired  at  Aosta,  upon  my  last 


visit,  if  any  skins  or  horns  were  for  sale, 
and  in  ten  minutes  was  taken  into  a 
garret  where  the  remains  of  a  splendid 
beast  were  concealed  —  a  magnificent 
male,  presumed  to  be  more  than  twenty 
years  old,  as  its  massive  horns  had  twen- 
ty-two more  or  less  strongly -marked 
knobby  rings.  The  extreme  length  of 
the  skin,  from  the  tip  of  the  nose  to  the 
end  of  the  tail,  was  one  metre  sixty-nine 
centimetres  (about  five  feet 
seven  inches),  and  from  the 
ground  to  the  top  of  its  back 
had  been,  apparently,  about 
seventy-seven  centimetres. 
It  is  rare  to  meet  with  a  bou- 
quetin of  these  dimensions, 
and  the  owner  of  this  skin 
might  have  been  visited  with 
several  years'  imprisonment 
if  it  had  been  kno\vn  that  it 
was  in  his  possession. 

The  chase  of  the  bouque- 
tin is  properly  considered  a 
sport  fit  for  a  king,  and  His 
Majesty  Victor  Emmanuel, 
for  whom  it  is  reserved,  is 
too   good   a   sportsman   to 
slaughter    indiscriminately 
an  animal  which  is  an  or- 
nament   to    his    domains. 
Last  year  (1869)  seventeen 
fell  to  his  gun  at  one  hun- 
dred yards  and  upward.    In 
1868,  His  Majesty  presented 
a  fine  specimen  to  the  Ital- 
ian Alpine  Club.  The  mem- 
bers banqueted,  I  believe, 
upon  its  flesh,  and  they  have 
had  the  skin  stuffed  and  set 
up  in  their  rooms  at  Aosta. 
It  is  said  by  connoisseurs  to 
be  badly  stuffed — that  it  is 
not  broad  enough  in  the  chest  and  is  too 
large  behind.     Still,  it  looks  well-propor- 
tioned, although  it  seems  made  for  hard 
work   rather  than   for  feats  of   agility. 
From  this  specimen  the  accompanying 
engraving  has  been  made. 

It  is  a  full-grown  male  about  twelve 
years  old,  and  if  it  stood  upright  would 
measure  three  feet  three  and  a  half 
inches  from  the  ground  to  the  base  of  its 
horns.  Its  extreme  length  is  four  feet 


128 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


seven  inches.  Its  horns  have  eleven 
well-marked  rings,  besides  one  or  two 
faintly-marked  ones,  and  are  (measured 
round  their  curvature)  fifty-four  and  a 
half  centimetres  in  length.  The  horns 
of  the  first-mentioned  specimen  (meas- 
ured in  the  same  way)  had  a  length  of 
only  fifty-three  and  a  half  centimetres, 
although  they  were  ornamented  with 
nearly  double  the  number  of  rings,  and 
were  presumably  of  double  the  age,  of 
the  other.* 

The  keepers  and  the  chasseurs  of  this 
district  not  only  say  that  the  rings  upon 
the  horns  of  the  ibex  tell  its  age  (each 
one  reckoning  as  a  year),  but  that  the 
half-developed  ones,  which  sometimes 
are  very  feebly  marked  indeed,  show 
that  the  animal  has  suffered  from  hunger 
during  the  winter.  Naturalists  are  skep- 
tical upon  this  point,  but  inasmuch  as 
they  offer  no  better  reason  against  the 
reputed  fact  than  the  natives  do  in  its 
favor  (one  saying  that  it  is  not  so,  and 
the  other  saying  that  it  is  so),  we  may 
perhaps  be  permitted  to  consider  it  an 
open  question.  I  can  only  say  that  if 
the  faintly-marked  rings  do  denote  years 
of  famine,  the  times  for  the  bouquetin 
are  very  hard  indeed ;  since  in  most  of 
the  horns  which  I  have  seen  the  lesser 
rings  have  been  very  numerous,  and 
sometimes  more  plentiful  than  the  prom- 
inent ones. 

The  chef  of  the  keepers  (who  judges 
by  the  above-mentioned  indications) 
tells  me  that  the  ibex  not  unfrequehtly 
arrives  at  the  age  of  thirty  years,  and 
sometimes  to  forty  or  forty  -  five.  He 
says,  too,  that  it  is  not  fond  of  traversing 
steep  snow,  and  in  descending  a  couloir 
that  is  filled  with  it  will  zig-zag  down, 
by  springing  from  one  side  to  the  other 
in  leaps  of  fifty  feet  at  a  time  !  Jean 
Tairraz,  the  worthy  landlord  of  the  Ho- 
tel du  Mont  Blanc  at  Aosta  (who  has 
had  opportunities  of  observing  the  ani- 
mal closely),  assures  me  that  at  the 
age  of  four  or  five  months  it  can  easily 

*  Mr.  King,  in  his  Italian  Valleys  of  the  Alps,  says, 
"  In  the  pair  [of  horns]  I  possess,  which  are  ttuo  feet 
long,  there  are  eight  of  these  yearly  rings."  It  would 
seem,  therefore  (if  the  rings  are  annual  ones),  that  the 
maximum  length  of  horn  is  attained  at  a  compar- 
atively early  age. 


clear  a  height  of  nine  or  ten  feet  at  a 
bound ! 

Long  live  the  bouquetin  !  and  long 
may  its  chase  preserve  the  health  of  the 
mountaineering  king,  Victor  Emmanuel ! 
Long  life  to  the  bouquetin  !  but  down 
with  the  cretin  ! 

The  peculiar  form  of  idiocy  which  is 
called  cretinism  is  so  highly  developed 
in  the  valley  of  Aosta,  and  the  natives 
are  so  familiarized  with  it,  that  they  are 
almost  indignant  when  the  surprised 
traveler  remarks  its  frequency.  One  is 
continually  reminded  that  it  is  not  pe- 
culiar to  the  valley,  and  that  there  are 
cretins  elsewhere.  It  is  too  true  that  this 
terrible  scourge  is  widespread  through- 
out the  Alps  and  over  the  world,  and 
that  there  are  places  where  the  propor- 
tion of  cretins  to  population  is,  or  has 
been,  even  greater  than  in  the  valley  of 
Aosta ;  but  I  have  never  seen  or  heard 
of  a  valley  so  fertile  and  so  charming 
— of  one  which,  apart  from  cretinism, 
leaves  so  agreeable  an  impression  upon 
the  wayfarer — where  equal  numbers  are 
reduced  to  a  condition  which  any  re- 
spectable ape  might  despise. 

The  whole  subject  of  cretinism  is  sur- 
rounded with  difficulty.  The  number 
of  those  who  are  afflicted  by  it  is  un- 
known, its  cure  is  doubtful,  and  its  origin 
is  mysterious.  It  has  puzzled  the  most 
acute  observers,  and  every  general  state- 
ment in  regard  to  it  must  be  fenced  by 
qualifications. 

It  is  tolerably  certain,  however,  that 
the  centre  of  its  distribution  in  the  valley 
of  Aosta  is  about  the  centre  of  the  valley. 
The  city  of  Aosta  itself  may  be  regarded 
as  its  head-quarters.  It  is  there,  and  in 
the  neighboring  towns  of  Gignod,  Ville- 
neuve,  St.  Vincent  and  Verrex,  and  in 
the  villages  and  upon  the  high-road  be- 
tween those  places,  that  these  distorted, 
mindless  beings,  more  like  brutes  than 
men,  commonly  excite  one's  disgust  by 
their  hideous,  loathsome  and  uncouth 
appearance,  by  their  obscene  gestures 
and  by  their  senseless  gabbling.  The 
accompanying  portrait  of  one  is  by  no 
means  overdrawn :  some  are  too  fright- 
ful for  representation. 

How  can  we  account  for  this  partic- 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


ular  intensity  toward  the  middle  of  the 
valley  ?  Why  is  it  that  cretins  become 
more  and  more  numerous  after  Ivrea  is 
passed,  attain  their  highest  ratio  and 
lowest  degradation  at  or  about  the  chief 
town  of  the  valley,  and  then  diminish  in 
numbers  as  its  upper  termination  is  ap- 
proached ?  This  maximum  of  intensity 
must  certainly  point  to  a  cause,  or  to  a 
combination  of  causes,  operating  about 
Aosta,  which  are  less  powerful  at  the 
two  extremities  of  the  valley ;  and  if  the 
reason  for  it  could  be  determined,  the 
springs  of  cretinism  would  be  exposed. 
The  disease  would  be  even  more  puz- 


A    CRETIN    OF    AOSTA. 


zling  than  it  is  if  it  were  confined  to  this 
single  locality,  and  the  inquirer  were  to 
find  not  merely  that  it  was  almost  un- 
known upon  the  plains  to  the  east  and 
in  the  districts  to  the  west,  but  that  the 
valleys  radiating  north  and  south  from 
the  main  valley  were  practically  un- 
affected by  it.  For  it  is  a  remarkable 
circumstance,  which  has  attracted  the 
notice  of  all  who  have  paid  attention  to 
cretinism,  that  the  natives  of  the  trib- 
utary valleys  are  almost  free  from  the 
malady  —  that  people  of  the  same  race, 
speaking  the  same  language,  breathing 
the  same  air,  eating  the  same  food,  and 
9 


living  the  same  life,  enjoy  almost  entire 
immunity  from  it,  while  at  the  distance 
of  a  very  few  miles  thousands  of  others 
are  completely  in  its  power. 

A  parallel  case  is  found,  however,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Pennine  Alps.  The 
Rhone  valley  is  almost  equally  disfigured 
by  cretinism,  and  in  it,  too,  the  exti  trin- 
ities of  the  valley  are  slightly  affected 
compared  with  the  intermediate  districts 
— particularly  those  between  Brieg  and 
St.  Maurice.*  This  second  example 
strengthens  the  conviction  that  the  great 
development  of  cretinism  in  the  middle 
of  the  valley  of  Aosta  is  not  the  result 
of  accidental  circumstances. 

It  was  formerly  supposed  that  cre- 
tinism arose  from  the  habitual  drink- 
ing of  snow-  and  glacier-water.  De 
Saussure  opposed  to  this  conjecture  the 
facts  that  the  disease  was  entirely  un- 
known precisely  in  those  places  where 
the  inhabitants  were  most  dependent 
upon  these  kinds  of  water,  and  that  it 
was  most  common  where  such  was 
not  the  case  —  that  the  high  valleys 
were  untainted,  while  the  low  ones 
were  infected.  The  notion  seems  to 
have  proceeded  from  cretins  being 
confounded  with  persons  who  were 
merely  goitred,  or  at  least  from  the 
supposition  that  goitre  was  an  incipi- 
ent stage  of  cretinism. 

Goitre,  it  is  now  well  ascertained,  is 
induced  by  the  use  of  chemically  im- 
pure water,  and  especially  hard  water; 
and  the  investigations  of  various  ob- 
servers have  discovered  that  goitre  has 
an  intimate   connection   with  certain 
geological  formations.     In  harmony  with 
these  facts  it  is  found  that  infants  are 
seldom  born  with  goitres,  but  that  they 
develop  as  the  child  grows  up,  that  they 
will   sometimes   appear   and   disappear 
from  mere  change  of  locality,  and  that 
it  is   possible  to  produce  them   inten- 
tionally. 

It  is  not  so  certain  that  the  causes 
which  produce  goitre  should  be  regarded 

*  It  was  stated  a  few  years  ago  that  one  in  twenty- 
five  of  the  natives  of  the  Canton  Valais  (which  is 
chiefly  occupied  by  the  valley  of  the  Upper  Rhone) 
were  cretins.  This  would  give  about  thirty-five  hun- 
dred to  the  canton.  At  the  same  time  the  valley  of 
Aosta  contained  about  two  thousand  cretins. 


130 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


as  causes  of  the  production  or  mainten- 
ance of  cretinism.  It  is  true  that  cre- 
tins are  very  generally  goitrous,  but  it  is 
also  true  that  there  are  tens  of  thousands 
of  goitrous  persons  who  are  entirely  free 
from  all  traces  of  cretinism.  Not  only 
so,  but  that  there  are  districts  in  the  Alps 
and  outside  of  them  (even  in  our  own 
country)  where  goitre  is  not  rare,  but 
where  the  cretin  is  unknown.  Still,  re- 
garding the  evil  state  of  body  which 
leads  to  goitre  as  being,  possibly,  in 
alliance  with  cretinism,  it  will  not  be 
irrelevant  to  give  the  former  disease  a 
little  more  attention  before  continuing 
the  consideration  of  the  main  subject. 

In  this  country  the  possession  of  a 
goitre  is  considered  a  misfortune  rather 
than  otherwise,  and  individuals  who  are 
afflicted  with  these  appendages  attempt 
to  conceal  their  shame.  In  the  Alps  it 
is  quite  the  reverse.  In  France,  Italy 
and  Switzerland  it  is  a  positive  advan- 
tage to  be  goitred,  as  it  secures  exemp- 
tion from  military  service.  A  goitre  is 
a  thing  to  be  prized,  exhibited,  preserved 
— it  is  worth  so  much  hard  cash  ;  and  it 
is  an  unquestionable  fact  that  the  per- 
petuation of  the  great  goitrous  family  is 
assisted  by  this  very  circumstance. 

When  Savoy  was  annexed  to  France 
the  administration  took  stock  of  the  re- 
sources of  its  new  territory,  and  soon 
discovered  that  although  the  acres  were 
many  the  conscripts  would  be  few.  The 
government  bestirred  itself  to  amend  this 
state  of  affairs,  and  after  arriving  at  the 
conclusion  that  goitre  was  produced  by 
drinking  bad  water  (and  that  its  produc- 
tion was  promoted  by  sottish  and  bestial 
habits),  took  measures  to  cleanse  the 
villages,  to  analyze  the  waters  (in  order 
to  point  out  those  which  should  not  be 
drunk),  and  to  give  to  children  who 
came  to  school  lozenges  containing  small 
doses  of  iodine.  It  is  said  that  out  of 
rive  thousand  goitrous  children  who  were 
so  treated  in  the  course  of  eight  years, 
two  thousand  were  cured,  and  the  con- 
dition of  two  thousand  others  was  im- 
proved ;  and  that  the  number  of  cures 
would  have  been  greater  if  the  parents 
"  had  not  opposed  the  care  of  the  gov- 
ernment, in  order  to  preserve  the  priv- 


ilege of  exemption  from  military  ser- 
vice" These  benighted  creatures  re- 
fused the  marshal's  baton  and  preferred 
their  "wallets  of  flesh  !" 

No  wonder  that  the  prefet  for  Haute- 
Savoie  proposes  that  goitrous  persons 
shall  no  longer  be  privileged.  Let  him 
go  farther,  and  obtain  a  decree  that  all 
of  them  capable  of  bearing  arms  shall 
be  immediately  drafted  into  the  army. 
Let  them  be  formed  into  regiments  by 
themselves,  brigaded  together  and  com- 
manded by  cretins.  Think  what  esprit 
de  corps  they  would  have  !  Who  could 
stand  against  them  ?  Who  would  un- 
derstand their  tactics  ?  He  would  save 
his  iodine  and  would  render  an  act  of 
justice  to  the  non-goitred  population. 
The  subject  is  worthy  of  serious  atten- 
tion. If  goitre  is  really  an  ally  of  cre- 
tinism, the  sooner  it  is  eradicated  the 
better. 

De  Saussure  substituted  heat  and  stag- 
nation of  air  as  the  cause  of  cretinism, 
in  the  place  of  badness  of  water.  But 
this  was  only  giving  up  one  unsatisfac- 
tory explanation  for  another  equally  un- 
tenable ;  and  since  there  are  places  far 
hotter  and  with  pernicious  atmospheres 
where  the  disease  is  unknown,  while,  on 
the  other  hand,  there  are  situations  in 
which  it  is  common  where  the  heat  is 
not  excessive,  and  which  enjoy  a  freely 
circulating  atmosphere,  his  assumption 
may  be  set  aside  as  insufficient  to  ac- 
count for  the  cretinism  of  the  valley  of 
Aosta.  And  in  regard  to  its  particular 
case  it  may  be  questioned  whether  there 
is  anything  more  than  an  imaginary 
stagnation  of  air.  For  my  own  part,  I 
attribute  the  oppression  which  strangers 
say  they  feel  in  the  middle  of  the  valley 
not  to  stagnation  of  air,  but  to  absence 
of  shadow  in  consequence  of  the  val- 
ley's course  being  east  and  west;  and 
believe  that  if  the  force  of  the  wind  were 
observed  and  estimated  according  to  the 
methods  in  common  use,  it  would  be 
found  that  there  is  no  deficiency  of  mo- 
tion in  the  air  throughout  the  entire  year. 
Several  towns  and  villages,  moreover, 
where  cretins  are  most  numerous,  are 
placed  at  the  entrances  of  valleys  and 
upon  elevated  slopes,  with  abundant 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


natural  facilities  for  drainage — free  from 
malaria,  which  has  been  suggested  as 
accounting  for  the  cretinism  of  the  Rhone 
valley. 

Others  have  imagined  that  intemper- 
ance, poor  living,  foul  habits  and  per- 
sonal uncleanliness  sow  the  seeds  of 
cretinism  ;  and  this  opinion  is  entitled 
to  full  consideration.  Intemperance  of 
divers  kinds  is  fruitful  in  the  production 
of  insanity,  and  herding  together  in  filthy 
dwellings,  with  little  or  no  ventilation, 
may  possibly  deteriorate  physique  as 
much  as  extreme  indulgence  may  the 
mind.  These  ideas  are  popularly  en- 
tertained, because  cretins  are  more 
numerous  among  the  lower  orders  than 
among  the  well-to-do  classes.  Yet  they 
must,  each  and  all,  be  regarded  as  in- 
adequate to  account  for  the  disease,  still 
less  to  explain  its  excess  in  the  centre 
of  the  valley  ;  for  in  these  respects  there 
is  little  or  no  distinction  between  it, 
the  two  extremities  and  the  neighboring 
districts. 

A  conjecture  remains  to  be  considered 
regarding  the  origin  of  cretinism  which 
is  floating  in  the  minds  of  many  persons 
(although  it  is  seldom  expressed),  which 
carries  with  it  an  air  of  probability  that 
is  wanting  in  the  other  explanations,  and 
which  is  supported  by  admitted  facts. 

The  fertility  of  the  valley  of  Aosta  is 
proverbial.  It  is  covered  with  vineyards 
and  cornfields,  flocks  and  herds  abound 
in  it,  and  its  mineral  resources  are  great. 
There  is  enough  and  to  spare  both  for 
man  and  beast.  There  are  poor  in  the 
valley,  as  there  are  everywhere,  but  life 
is  so  far  easy  that  they  are  not  driven  to 
seek  for  subsistence  in  other  places,  and 
remain  from  generation  to  generation 
rooted  to  their  native  soil.  The  large 
numbers  of  persons  who  are  found  in 
this  valley  having  the  same  surnames 
is  a  proof  of  the  well-known  fact  that 
there  is  little  or  no  emigration  from  the 
valley,  and  that  there  is  an  indefinite 
amount  of  intermarriage  between  the 
i  atives.  It  is  conjectured  that  the  con- 
tinuance of  these  conditions  through  a 
long  period  has  rendered  the  population 
more  or  less  consanguineous,  and  that  we 
see  in  cretinism  an  example,  upon  a  large 


scale,  of  the  evil  effects  of  alliances  of 
kindred. 

This  explanation  commends  itself  by 
reason  of  its  general  applicability  to  cre- 
tinism. The  disease  is  commonly  found 
in  valleys,  on  islands  or  in  other  circum- 
scribed aieas  in  which  circulation  is  re- 
stricted or  the  inhabitants  are  non-mi- 
gratory ;  and  it  is  rare  on  plains,  where 
communications  are  free.  It  will  at  once 
be  asked,  "Why,  then,  are  not  the  tribu- 
tary valleys  of  the  valley  of  Aosta  full 
of  cretins?"  The  answer  is,  that  these 
lateral  valleys  are  comparatively  sterile, 
and  are  unable  to  support  their  popula- 
tion from  their  internal  resources.  Large 
numbers  annually  leave  and  do  not  re- 
turn— some  come  back,  having  formed 
alliances  elsewhere.  There  is  a  constant 
circulation  and  introduction  of  new  blood. 
I  am  not  aware  that  there  are  returns  to 
show  the  extent  to  which  this  goes  on, 
but  the  fact  is  notorious. 

This  conjecture  explains,  far  better 
than  the  other  guesses,  why  it  is  that 
cretinism  has  so  strong  a  hold  upon  the 
lower  classes,  while  it  leaves  the  upper 
ones  almost  untouched ;  for  the  former 
are  most  likely  to  intermarry  with  peo- 
ple of  their  own  district,  whilst  the  latter 
are  under  no  sort  of  compulsion  in  this 
respect.  It  gives  a  clue,  too,  to  the  rea- 
son of  the  particular  intensity  in  the 
centre  of  the  valley.  The  inhabitants 
of  the  lower  extremity  communicate  and 
mix  with  the  untainted  dwellers  on  the 
plains,  whilst  the  conditions  at  the  up- 
per extremity  approximate  to  those  of 
the  lateral  valleys.  Before  this  explana- 
tion will  be  generally  received  a  closer 
connection  will  have  to  be  established 
between  the  assumed  cause  and  the 
presumed  effect.  Accepting  it,  never- 
theless, as  a  probable  and  reasonable 
one,  let  us  now  consider  what  prospect 
there  is  of  checking  the  progress  of  the 
disease. 

It  is,  of  course,  impossible  to  change 
the  habits  of  the  natives  of  the  valley 
of  Aosta  suddenly,  and  it  would  proba- 
bly be  very  difficult  to  cause  any  large 
amount  of  emigration  or  immigration. 
In  the  present  embarrassed  condition  of 
Italian  finances  there  is  very  small  chance 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


of  any  measure  of  the  sort  being  under- 
taken if  it  would  involve  a  considerable 
expenditure.  The  opening  of  a  railway 
from  Ivrea  to  Aosta  might  possibly  bring 
about,  in  a  natural  way,  more  move- 
ment than  would  be  promoted  by  any 
legislation,  and  by  this  means  the  hap- 
piest effects  might  be  produced. 

There  is  little  hope  of  practical  results 
from  attempts  to  cure  cretins.  Once  a 
cretin,  you  are  always  one.  The  experi- 
ments of  the  late  Dr.  Guggenbuhl  de- 
monstrated that  some  /zfl^/"-cretins  may 
even  become  useful  members  of  society 
if  they  are  taken  in  hand  early  in  life, 
but  they  did  not  show  that  the  nature 
of  the  true  or  complete  cretin  could  be 
altered.  He  essayed  to  modify  some  of 
the  mildest  forms  of  cretinism,  but  did 
not  strike  at  the  root  of  the  evil.  If  fifty 
Guggenbiihls  were  at  work  in  the  single 
valley  of  Aosta,  they  would  take  several 
generations  to  produce  an  appreciable 
effect,  and  they  would  never  extirpate 
the  disease  so  long  as  its  sources  were 
unassailed. 

Nor  will  the  house  which  has  been 
built  at  Aosta  to  contain  two  hundred 
cretin  beggars  do  much,  unless  the  in- 
mates are  restrained  from  perpetuating 
their  own  degradation.  Even  the  lowest 
types  of  cretins  may  be  procreative,  and 
it  is  said  that  the  unlimited  liberty  which 
is  allowed  to  them  has  caused  infinite 
mischief.  A  large  proportion  of  the  cre- 
tins who  will  be  born  in  the  next  gen- 
eration will  undoubtedly  be  offspring  of 
cretin  parents.  It  is  strange  that  self- 
interest  does  not  lead  the  natives  of 
Aosta  to  place  their  cretins  under  such 
restrictions  as  would  prevent  their  illicit 
intercourse ;  and  it  is  still  more  surpris- 
ing to  find  the  Catholic  Church  actually 
legalizing  their  marriage.  There  is  some- 
thing horribly  grotesque  in  the  idea  of 
solemnizing^RK.  union  of  a  brace  of  idiots ; 
and  since  it  is  well  known  that  the  dis- 
ease is  hereditary,  and  develops  in  suc- 
cessive generations,  the  fact  that  such 
marriages  are  sanctioned  is  scandalous 
and  infamous. 

The  supply,  therefore,  is  kept  up  from 
two  sources.  The  first  contingent  is  de- 
rived  from  apparently  healthy  parents ; 


the  second,  by  inheritance  from  diseasea 
persons.  The  origin  of  the  first  is  ob- 
scure ;  and  before  its  quota  can  be  cut 
off,  or  even  diminished,  the  mystery 
which  envelops  it  must  be  dissipated. 
The  remedy  for  the  second  is  obvious, 
and  is  in  the  hands  of  the  authorities, 
particularly  in  those  of  the  clergy.  Mar- 
riage must  be  prohibited  to  all  who  are 
affected,  the  most  extreme  cases  must  be 
placed  under  restraint,  and  cretins  whose 
origin  is  illegitimate  must  be  subject  to 
disabilities.  Nothing  short  of  the  adop- 
tion of  these  measures  will  meet  the 
case.  Useless  it  will  be,  so  long  as  the 
primary  .sources  of  the  disease  are  un- 
touched, to  build  hospitals,  to  cleanse 
dwellings,  to  widen  streets,  or  to  attempt 
small  ameliorations  of  the  social  circum- 
stances of  the  natives.  All  of  these 
things  are  good  enough  in  themselves, 
but  they  are  wholly  impotent  to  effect  a 
radical  change. 

No  satisfactory  conclusion  will  be  ar- 
rived at  regarding  the  origin  of  cretinism 
until  the  pedigrees  of  a  large  number  of 
examples  have  been  traced.  The  numer- 
ical test  is  the  only  one  which  is  likely 
to  discover  the  reality.  The  necessary 
inquiries  are  beyond  the  powers  of  pri- 
vate persons,  and  their  pursuit  will  be 
found  sufficiently  difficult  by  official  in- 
vestigators. Great  reluctance  will  be 
exhibited  to  disclose  the  information 
which  should  be  sought,  and  the  com- 
mon cry  will  certainly  be  raised  that 
such  scrutiny  is  without  general  advan- 
tage and  is  painful  to  private  feelings. 
But  in  matters  which  affect  mankind  in 
general,  individual  feelings  must  always 
be  subordinated  to  the  public  interest ; 
and  if  the  truth  is  to  be  arrived  at  in 
regard  to  cretinism,  the  protests  of  the 
ignorant  will  have  to  be  overridden. 

Cretinism  is  the  least  agreeable  feature 
of  the  valley  of  Aosta,  but  it  is,  at  the 
same  time,  the  most  striking.  It  has 
been  touched  upon  for  the  sake  of  its 
human  interest,  and  on  account  of  those 
unhappy  beings  who — punished  by  the 
errors  of  their  fathers — are  powerless  to 
help  themselves  ;  the  first  sight  of  whom 
produced  such  an  impression  upon  the 
most  earnest  of  all  Alpine  writers  that 


THE  GRANGES  JORASSES  AND  THE  Q01RE  TORRENT,  VAL  FERRET  (DMTALIE). 

Page  133. 


lTIVBBSITT 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


133 


he  declared,  in  a  twice-repeated  expres- 
sion, its  recollection  would  never  be  ef- 
faced from  his  memory. 

On  the  23d  of  June,  1865,  my  guides 
and  I  were  reposing  upon  the  top  of 
Mont  Saxe,  scanning  the  Grandes  Jo- 
rasses  with  a  view  to  ascending  it.  Five 
thousand  feet  of  glacier -covered  pre- 
cipices rose  above  us,  and  up  all  that 
height  we  tracked  a  way  to  our  satisfac- 
tion. Three  thousand  feet  more  of  gla- 
cier and  forest-covered  slopes  lay  be- 
neath, and  there,  there  was  only  one 
point  at  which  it  was  doubtful  if  we 
should  find  a  path.  The  glaciers  were 
shrinking,  and  were  surrounded  by  bas- 
tions of  rounded  rock,  far  too  polished 
to  please  the  rough  mountaineer.  We 
could  not  track  a  way  across  them. 
However,  at  4  A.  M.  the  next  day,  under 
the  dexterous  leading  of  Michael  Croz, 
we  passed  the  doubtful  spot.  Thence  it 
was  all  plain  sailing,  and  at  i  p.  M.  we 
gained  the  summit.  The  weather  was 
boisterous  in  the  upper  regions,  and 
storm-clouds  driven  before  the  wind  and 
wrecked  against  our  heights  enveloped 
us  in  misty  spray,  which  danced  around 
and  fled  away,  which  cut  us  off  from  the 
material  universe,  and  caused  us  to  be, 
as  it  were,  suspended  betwixt  heaven 
and  earth,  seeing  both  occasionally,  but 
seeming  to  belong  to  neither. 

The  mists  lasted  longer  than  my  pa- 
tience, and  we  descended  without  hav- 
ing attained  the  object  for  which  the 
ascent  was  made.  At  first  we  followed 
the  little  ridge  shown  upon  the  accom- 
panying engraving  (The  Grandes  Jo- 
rasses  from  the  Val  Ferret),  leading  from 
our  summit  toward  the  spectator,  and 
then  took  to  the  head  of  the  corridor  of 
glacier  on  its  left,  which  in  the  view  is 
left  perfectly  white.  The  slopes  were 
steep  and  covered  with  new-fallen  snow, 
flour-like  and  evil  to  tread  upon.  On 
the  ascent  we  had  reviled  it,  and  had 
made  our  staircase  with  much  caution, 
knowing  full  well  that  the  disturbance 
of  its  base  would  bring  down  all  that 
was  above.  In  descending,  the  bolder 
spirits  counseled  trusting  to  luck  and  a 
glissade :  the  cautious  ones  advocated 


avoiding  the  slopes  and  crossing  to  the 
rocks  on  their  farther  side.  The  advice 
of  the  latter  prevailed,  and  we  had  half 
traversed  the  snow  to  gain  the  ridge 
when  the  crust  slipped  and  we  went 
along  with  it.  "Halt!"  broke  from  all 
four  unanimously.  The  axe-heads  flew 
round  as  we  started  on  this  involuntary 
glissade.  It  was  useless — they  slid  over 
the  underlying  ice  fruitlessly.  "Halt!" 
thundered  Croz,  as  he  dashed  his  wea- 
pon in  again  with  superhuman  energy. 
No  halt  could  be  made,  and  we  slid 
down  slowly,  but  with  accelerating  mo- 
tion, driving  up  waves  of  snow  in  front, 
with  streams  of  the  nasty  stuff  hissing 
all  around.  Luckily,  the  slope  eased 
off  at  one  place,  the  leading  men  clev- 
erly jumped  aside  out  of  the  moving 
snow,  we  others  followed,  and  the  young 
avalanche  which  we  had  started,  con- 
tinuing to  pour  down,  fell  into  a  yawn- 
ing crevasse,  and  showed  us  where  our 
grave  would  have  been  if  we  had  re- 
mained in  its  company  five  seconds 
longer.  The  whole  affair  did  not  occupy 
half  a  minute.  It  was  the  solitary  inci- 
dent of  a  long  day,  and  at  nightfall  we 
re-entered  the  excellent  house  kept  by 
the  courteous  Bertolini,  well  satisfied 
that  we  had  not  met  with  more  incidents 
of  a  similar  description. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 
THE    COL     DOLENT. 

FREETHINKING  mountaineers  have 
been  latterly  in  the  habit  of  going  up 
one  side  of  an  alp  and  coming  down 
the  other,  and  calling  the  route  a  pass. 
In  this  confusion  of  ideas  may  be  re- 
cognized the  result  of  the  looseness  of 
thought  which  arises  from  the  absence 
of  technical  education.  The  true  be- 
liever abhors  such  heresies,  and  observes 
with  satisfaction  that  Providence  often- 
times punishes  the  offenders  for  their 
greediness  by  causing  them  to  be  be- 
nighted. The  faithful  know  that  passes 
must  be  made  between  mountains,  and 
not  over  their  tops.  Their  creed  declares 
that  between  any  two  mountains  there 
must  be  a  pass,  and  they  believe  that 


'34 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


the  end  for  which  big  peaks  were  created 
— the  office  they  are  especially  designed 
to  fulfill — is  to  point  out  the  way  one 
should  go.  This  is  the  true  faith,  and 
there  is  no  other. 

We  set  out  upon  the  26th  of  June  to 
endeavor  to  add  one  more  to  the  passes 
which  are  strictly  orthodox.  We  hoped, 
rather  than  expected,  to  discover  a  quick- 
er route  from  Courmayeur  to  Chamounix 
than  the  Col  du  Geant,  which  was  the 
easiest,  quickest  and  most  direct  pass 
known  at  the  time  across  the  main  chain 
of  Mont  Blanc.  The  misgivings  which 
I  had  as  to  the  result  caused  us  to  start 
at  the  unusual  hour  of  12.40  A.  M.  At 
4.30  we  passed  the  chalets  of  Pre  du 
Bar,  and  thence,  for  some  distance,  fol- 
lowed the  track  which  we  had  made 
upon  the  ascent  of  Mont  Dolent,  over 
the  glacier  of  the  same  name.  At  a 
quarter-past  eight  we  arrived  at  the  head 
of  the  glacier,  and  at  the  foot  of  the 
only  steep  gradient  upon  the  whole  of 
the  ascent. 

It  was  the  beau-ideal  of  a  pass.  There 
was  a  gap  in  the  mountains,  with  a  big 
peak  on  each  side  (Mont  Dolent  and  the 
Aiguille  de  Triolet).  A  narrow  thread 
of  snow  led  up  to  the  lowest  point  be- 
tween those  mountains,  and  the  blue 
sky  beyond  said,  Directly  you  arrive 
here  you  will  begin  to  go  down.  We 
addressed  ourselves  to  our  task,  and  at 
10. 1 5  A.  M.  arrived  at  the  top  of  the  pass. 

Had  things  gone  as  they  ought,  with- 
in six  hours  more  we  should  have  been 
at  Chamounix.  Upon  the  other  side  we 
knew  that  there  was  a  couloir  in  corre- 
spondence with  that  up  which  we  had 
just  come.  If  it  had  been  filled  with 
snow,  all  would  have  been  well :  it  turn- 
ed out  to  be  filled  with  ice.  Croz,  who 
led,  passed  over  to  the  other  side,  and 
reported  that  we  should  get  down  some- 
how, but  I  knew  from  the  sound  of  his 
axe  how  the  somehow  would  be,  and 
settled  myself  to  sketch,  well  assured 
that  /should  not  be  wanted  for  an  hour 
to  come.  What  I  saw  is  shown  in  the 
engraving — a  sharp  aiguille  (nameless), 
perhaps  the  sharpest  in  the  whole  range, 
backed  on  the  left  by  the  Aiguille  de 
Triolet ;  queer  blocks  of  (probably)  pro- 


togine  sticking  out  awkwardly  through 
the  snow ;  and  a  huge  cornice  from 
which  big  icicles  depended,  that  broke 
away  occasionally  and  went  skiddling 
down  the  slope  up  which  we  had  come. 
Of  the  Argentiere  side  I  could  not  see 
anything. 

Croz  was  tied  up  with  our  good  manila 
rope,  and  the  whole  two  hundred  feet 
were  paid  out  gradually  by  Aimer  and 
Biener  before  he  ceased  working.  After 
two  hours'  incessant  toil,  he  was  able 
to  anchor  himself  to  the  rock  on  his 
right.  He  then  untied  himself,  the  rope 
was  drawn  in,  Biener  was  attached  to 
the  end  and  went  down  to  join  his  com- 
rade. There  was  then  room  enough  for 
me  to  stand  by  the  side  of  Aimer,  and  I 
got  my  first  view  of  the  other  side.  For 
the  first  and  only  time  in  my  life  I  look- 
ed down  a  slope  of  more  than  a  thou- 
sand feet  long,  set  at  an  angle  of  about 
fifty  degrees,  which  was  a  sheet  of  ice 
from  top  to  bottom.  It  was  unbroken 
by  rock  or  crag,  and  anything  thrown 
down  it  sped  away  unarrested  until  the 
level  of  the  Glacier  d' Argentiere  was 
reached.  The  entire  basin  of  that  noble 
glacier  was  spread  out  at  our  feet,  and 
the  ridge  beyond,  culminating  in  the 
Aiguille  d'Argentiere,  was  seen  to  the 
greatest  advantage.  I  confess,  however, 
that  I  paid  very  little  attention  to  the 
view,  for  there  was  no  time  to  indulge 
in  such  luxuries.  I  descended  the  icy 
staircase  and  joined  the  others,  and  then 
we  three  drew  in  the  rope  tenderly  as 
Aimer  came  down.  His  was  not  an  en- 
viable position,  but  he  descended  with 
as  much  steadiness  as  if  his  whole  life 
had  been  passed  on  ice-slopes  of  fifty 
degrees.  The  process  was  repeated, 
Croz  again  going  to  the  front,  and  avail- 
ing himself  very  skillfully  of  the  rocks 
which  projected  from  the  cliff  on  our 
right.  Our  two  hundred  feet  of  rope 
again  came  to  an  end,  and  we  again 
descended  one  by  one.  From  this  point 
we  were  able  to  clamber  down  by  the 
rocks  alone  for  about  three  hundred  feet. 
They  then  became  sheer  cliff,  and  we 
stopped  for  dinner,  about  2.30  p.  M.,  at 
the  last  place  upon  which  we  could  sit. 
Four  hours'  incessant  work  had  brought 


FHE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  COL  OOLENT. 


Page  134. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


us  rather  more  than  halfway  down  the 
gully.  We  were  now  approaching, 
although  we  were  still  high  above,  the 
schrunds  at  its  base,  and  the  guides 
made  out,  in  some  way  unknown  to  me, 
that  Nature  had  perversely  placed  the 
only  snow-bridge  across  the  topmost  one 
toward  the  centre  of  the  gully.  It  was 
decided  to  cut  diagonally  across  the 
gully  to  the  point  where  the  snow-bridge 
was  supposed  to  be.  Aimer  and  Biener 
undertook  the  work,  leaving  Croz  and 


MY    ICE-AXE. 


myself  firmly  planted  on  the  rocks  to 
pay  out  rope  to  them  as  they  advanced. 
It  is  generally  admitted  that  veritable 
ice-slopes  (understanding  by  ice  some- 
thing more  than  a  crust  of  hard  snow 
over  soft  snow)  are  only  rarely  met  with 
in  the  Alps.  They  are  frequently  spoken 
of,  but  such  as  that  to  which  I  refer  are 
very  rarely  seen,  and  still  more  seldom 
traversed.  It  is,  however,  always  pos- 
sible that  they  may  be  encountered,  and 
on  this  account,  if  for  no  other,  it  is  ne- 
cessary for  men  who  go  mountaineering 
to  be  armed  with  ice-axes,  and  with 


good  ones.  The  form  is  of  more  im- 
portance than  might  be  supposed.  Of 
course,  if  you  intend  to  act  as  a  simple 
amateur  and  le,t  others  do  the  work,  and 
only  follow  in  their  steps,  it  is  not  of 
much  importance  what  kind  of  ice-axe 
you  carry,  so  long  as  its  head  does  not 
fall  off  or  otherwise  behave  itsell  im- 
properly. There  is  no  better  weapon 
for  cutting  steps  in  ice  than  a  common 
pick-axe,  and  the  form  of  ice-axe  which 
is  now  usually  employed  by  the  best 
guides  is  very  like  a  minia- 
ture pick.  My  own  axe  is 
copied  from  Melchior  An- 
deregg's.  It  is  of  wrought 
iron,  with  point  and  edge 
steeled.  Its  weight,  includ- 
ing spiked  handle,  is  four 
pounds.  For  cutting  steps 
in  ice  the  pointed  end  of  the 
head  is  almost  exclusively 
employed:  the  adze -end  is 
handy  for  polishing  them  up, 
but  is  principally  used  for 
cutting  in  hard  snow.  Apart 
from  its  value  as  a  cutting 
weapon,  it  is  invaluable  as  a 
grapnel.  It  is  naturally  a 
rather  awkward  implement 
when  it  is  not  being  employ- 
ed for  its  legitimate  purpose, 
and  is  likely  to  give  rise  to 
much  strong  language  in 
crushes  at  railway  termini, 
unless  its  head  is  protected 
with  a  leathern  cap  or  in  some 
other  way.  Many  attempts 
have  been  made,  for  the  sake 
of  convenience,  to  fashion  an 
ice-axe  with  a  movable  head,  but  it 
seems  difficult  or  impossible  to  produce 
one  except  at  the  expense  of  cutting 
qualities  and  by  increasing  the  weight. 

Mr.  T.  S.  Kennedy  (of  the  firm  of 
Fairbairn  &  Co.),  whose  practical  ac- 
quaintance with  mountaineering  and 
with  the  use  and  manufacture  of  tools 
makes  his  opinion  particularly  valuable, 
has  contrived  the  best  that  I  have  seen  ; 
but  even  it  seems  to  me  to  be  deficient 
in  rigidity,  and  not  to  be  so  powerful  a 
weapon  as  the  more  common  kind  with 
the  fixed  head.  The  simple  instrument 


136 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


which  is  shown  in  the  annexed  diagram 
is  the  invention  of  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen, 


and  it  answers  the  purposes  for  which 
he  devised  it — namely,  for  giving  better 


hold  upon  snow  and  ice  than 
can  be  obtained  from  the  com- 
mon alpenstock,  and  for  cutting 
an  occasional  step.  The  ama- 
teur scarcely  requires  anything 
more  imposing,  but  for  serious 
ice-work  a  heavier  weapon  is  in- 
dispensable. 

To   persons    armed  with    the 
proper  tools,  ice-slopes  are  not    KENNKD\ 
so  dangerous    as    many   places 
which  appeal   less   to   the  imagination. 
Their  ascent  or  descent  is  necessarily 
laborious  (to  those  who  do  the 
work),  and  they  may  therefore 
be  termed  difficult.    They  ought 
not  to  be  dangerous.     Yet  they 
always  seem  dangerous,  for  one 
is  profoundly  convinced  that  if 
he  slips  he  will  certainly  go  to  the 
bottom.     Hence,  any  man  who 
is  not  a  fool  takes  particular  care  to  pre- 
serve his  balance,  and  in  consequence 
we  have  the  noteworthy  fact  that  acci- 
dents have  seldom  or  never  taken  place 
upon  ice-slopes. 

The  same  slopes  covered  with  snow 
are  much  less  impressive,  and  may  be 
much  more  dangerous.  They  may  be 
less  slippery,  the  balance  may  be  more 
easily  preserved,  and  if  one  man  slips 
he  may  be  stopped  by  his  own  personal 
efforts,  provided  the  snow  which  over- 
lies the  ice  is  consolidated  and  of  a  rea- 
sonable depth.  But  if,  as  is  more  likely 
to  be  the  case  upon  an  angle  of  fifty 
degrees  (or  anything  approaching  that 
angle),  there  is  only  a  thin  stratum  of 
snow  which  is  not  consolidated,  the  oc- 
currence of  a  slip  will  most  likely  take 
the  entire  party  as  low  as  possible,  and, 
in  addition  to  the  chance  of  broken 
necks,  there  will  be  a  strong  probability 
that  some,  at  least,  will  be  smothered  by 
the  dislodged  snow.  Such  accidents  are 
far  too  common,  and  their  occurrence, 


as  a  rule,  may  be  traced  to  the 
want  of  caution  which  is  induced 
by  the  apparent  absence  of 
danger. 

I  do  not  believe  that  the  use 
of  the  rope,  in  the  'ordinary  way, 
affords   the    least    real  security 
upon  ice-slopes.     Nor  do  1  think 
that  any  benefit  is  derived  from 
ICE-AXE,    the    employment   of   crampons. 
Mr.  Kennedy  was  good  enough 
to  present  me  with  a  pair  some  time  ago, 
and  one  of  these  has  been  engraved. 


.•-7TT" 


STEPHEN    ICE-AXE 


They  are  the  best  variety  I  have  seen  of 
the  species,  but  I  only  feel  comfortable 
with  them  on  my  feet  in  places  where 
they  are  not  of  the  slightest  use — that  is, 
in  situations  where  there  is  no  possibility 
of  slipping — and  would  not  wear  them 


upon  an  ice-slope  for  any  consideration 
whatever.  All  such  adventitious  aids 
are  useless  if  you  have  not  a  good  step 
in  the  ice  to  stand  upon,  and  if  you  have 
got  that  nothing  more  is  wanted  except 
a  few  nails  in  the  boots. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


'37 


Aimer  and  Biener  got  to  the  end  of 
their  tether :  the  rope  no  longer  assured 
their  safety,  and  they  stopped  work  as 
we  advanced  and  coiled  it  up.  Shortly 
afterward  they  struck  a  streak  of  snow 
that  proved  to  be  just  above  the  bridge 
of  which  they  were  in  search.  The  slope 
steepened,  and  for  thirty  feet  or  so  we 
descended  face  to  the  wall,  making  steps 
by  kicking  with  the  toes  and  thrusting 
the  arms  well  into  the  holes  above,  just 
as  if  they  had  been  rounds  in  a  ladder. 
At  this  time  we  were  crossing  the  upper- 
most of  the  schrunds.  Needless  to  say 
that  the  snow  was  of  an  admirable  qual- 
ity :  this  performance  would  otherwise 
have  been  impossible.  It  was  soon  over, 
and  we  then  found  ourselves  upon  a 
huge  rhomboidal  mass  of  ice,  and  still 
separated  from  the  Argentiere  glacier  by 
a  gigantic  crevasse.  The  only  bridge 
over  this  lower  schrund  was  at  its  eastern 
end,  and  we  were  obliged  to  double  back 
to  get  to  it.  Cutting  continued  for  half 
an  hour  after  it  was  passed,  and  it  was 
5.35  P.  M.  before  the  axes  stopped  work, 
and  we  could  at  last  turn  back  and  look 
comfortably  at  the  formidable  slope  upon 
which  seven  hours  had  been  spent.* 

The  Col  Dolent  is  not  likely  to  com- 
pete with  the  Col  du  Geant,  and  I  would 
recommend  any  person  who  starts  to 
cross  it  to  allow  himself  plenty  of  time, 
plenty  of  rope  and  ample  guide-power. 
There  is  no  difficulty  whatever  upon  any 
part  of  the  route,  excepting  upon  the 
steep  slopes  immediately  below  the  sum- 
mit on  each  side.  When  we  arrived 
upon  the  Glacier  d' Argentiere  our  work 
was  as  good  as  over.  We  drove  a  straight 
track  to  the  chalets  of  Lognan,  and  thence 
the  way  led  over  familiar  ground.  Soon 
after  dusk  we  got  into  the  high-road  at 
Les  Tines,  and  at  10  p.  M.  arrived  at 
Chamounix.  Our  labors  were  duly  re- 
warded. Houris  brought  us  champagne 
and  the  other  drinks  which  are  reserved 
for  the  faithful,  but  before  my  share  was 
consumed  I  fell  asleep  in  an  arm-chair. 
I  slept  soundly  until  daybreak,  and  then 
turned  into  bed  and  went  to  sleep  again. 

*  I  estimate  its  height  at  1200  feet.  The  triangula- 
tion  of  Captain  Mieulet  places  the  summit  of  the  pass 
11,624  feet  above  the  sea.  This,  I  think,  is  too  high. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
ASCENT    OF   THE   AIGUILLE   VERTE. 

MICHEL  CROZ  now  parted  from  us. 
His  new  employer  had  not  arrived  at 
Chamounix,  but  Croz  considered  that  he 
was  bound  by  honor  to  wait  for  him,  and 
thus  Christian  Aimer  of  Grindelwald  be- 
came my  leading  guide. 

Aimer  displayed  aptitude  for  moun- 
taineering at  an  early  age.  Whilst  still 
a  very  young  man  he  was  known  as  a 
crack  chamois-hunter,  and  he  soon  de- 
veloped into  an  accomplished  guide. 
Those  who  have  read  Mr.  Wills'  graphic 
account  of  the  first  ascent  of  the  Wet- 
terhorn  *  will  remember  that  when  his 


CHRISTIAN   ALMER. 

party  was  approaching  the  top  of  the 
mountain  two  stranger  men  were  seen 
climbing  by  a  slightly  different  route, 
one  of  whom  carried  upon  his  back  a 
young  fir  tree,  branches,  leaves  and  all. 
Mr.  Wills'  guides  were  extremely  indig- 
nant with  these  two  strangers  (who  were 
evidently  determined  to  be  the  first  at 
the  summit),  and  talked  of  giving  them 
blows.  Eventually  they  gave  them  a 
cake  of  chocolate  instead,  and  declared 
that  they  were  good  fellows.  "  Thus  the 
pipe  of  peace  was  smoked,  and  tran- 
quillity reigned  between  the  rival  forces." 
Christian  Aimer  was  one  of  these  two 
men. 

*  Wanderings  among  the  High  Alps,  1858. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


This  was  in  1854.  In  i858-'5y  he 
made  the  first  ascents  of  the  Eigher  and 
the  Monch,  the  former  with  a  Mr.  Har- 
rington (?),  and  the  latter  with  Dr.  Forges. 
Since  then  he  has  wandered  far  and  near, 
from  Dauphine  to  the  Tyrol.  With  the 
exception  of  Melchior  Anderegg,  there 
is  not,  perhaps,  another  guide  of  such 
wide  experience,  or  one  who  has  been 
so  invariably  successful ;  and  his  numer- 
ous employers  concur  in  saying  that  there 


is  not  a  truer  heart  or  a  surer  foot  to  be 
found  amongst  the  Alps. 

Before  recrossing  the  chain  to  Cour- 
mayeur  we  ascended  the  Aiguille  Verte. 
In  company  with  Mr.  Reilly  I  inspected 
this  mountain  from  every  direction  in 
1864,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
an  ascent  could  more  easily  be  made 
from  the  south  than  upon  any  other  side. 
We  set  out  upon  the  28th  from  Chamou- 
nix  4o  attack  it,  minus  Croz,  and  plus 


ON   THE   MER    DE   GLACE. 


a  porter  (of  whom  I  will  speak  more 
particularly  presently),  leaving  our  com- 
rade very  downcast  at  having  to  kick 
his  heels  in  idleness,  whilst  we  were 
about  to  scale  the  most  celebrated  of  his 
native  aiguilles. 

Our  course  led  us  over  the  old  Mer  de 
Glace,  the  glacier  made  famous  by  De 
Saussure  and  Forbes.  The  heat  of  the 
day  was  over,  but  the  little  rills  and 
rivulets  were  still  flowing  along  the  sur- 
face of  the  ice;  cutting  deep  troughs 
where  the  gradients  were  small,  leaving 


ripple-marks  where  the  water  was  with 
more  difficulty  confined  to  one  channel, 
and  falling  over  the  precipitous  walls  of 
the  great  crevasses,  sometimes  in  bound- 
ing cascades,  and  sometimes  in  diffused 
streams,  which  marked  the  perpendicu- 
lar faces  with  graceful  sinuosities.*  As 
night  came  on,  their  music  died  away, 
the  rivulets  dwindled  down  to  rills,  the 
rills  ceased  to  murmur,  and  the  spark  - 

*  Admirably  rendered  in  the  accompanying  draw- 
ing by  Mr.  Cyrus  Johnson.  The  "  rpple-marks" 
are  seen  in  the  engraving  upon  p.  139. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


'39 


ling  drops,  caught  by  the  hand  of  frost, 
were  bound  to  the  ice,  coating  it  with  an 
enameled  film  which  lasted  until  the  sun 
struck  the  glacier  once  more. 

The  weathering  of  the  walls  of  cre- 
vasses, which  obscures  the  internal  struc- 
ture of  the  glacier,  has  led  some  to  con- 
clude that  the  stratification  which  is  seen 
in  the  higher  glacier-regions  is  obliterated 
in  the  lower  ones.  Others — Agassiz  and 
Mr.  John  Ball,  for  example — have  dis- 
puted this  opinion,  and  my  own  experi- 
ences accord  with  those  of  these  accu- 


ON    THE    MEK    DE    GLACE. 


rate  observers.  It  is,  undoubtedly,  very 
difficult  to  trace  stratification  in  the  low- 
er ends  of  the  Alpine  glaciers,  but  we 
are  not,  upon  that  account,  entitled  to 
conclude  that  the  original  structure  of 
the  ice  has  been  obliterated.  There  are 
thousands  of  crevasses  in  the  upper 
regions  upon  whose  walls  no  traces  of 
bedding  are  apparent,  and  we  might 
say,  with  equal  unreasonableness,  that 
it  was  obliterated  there  also.  Take  an 
axe  and  clear  away  the  ice  which  has 
formed  from  water  trickling  down  the 
faces  and  the  weathered  ice  beneath, 
and  you  will  expose  sections  of  the  min- 


gled strata  of  pure  and  of  imperfect  ice, 
and  see  clearly  enough  that  the  primi- 
tive structure  of  the  glacier  has  not  been 
effaced,  although  it  has  been  obscured. 

We  camped  on  the  Couvercle  (sev- 
enty-eight hundred  feet)  under  a  great 
rock,  and  at  3.15  the  next  morning  start- 
ed for  our  aiguille,  leaving  the  porter  in 
charge  of  the  tent  and  of  the  food.  Two 
hours'  walking  over  crisp  snow  brought 
us  up  more  than  four  thousand  feet,  and 
within  about  sixteen  hundred  feet  of  the 
summit.  From  no  other  direction  can  it 
be  approached  so  close- 
ly with  equal  facility. 
Thence  the  mountain 
steepens.  After  his  late 
severe  piece  of  ice-work, 
Aimer  had  a  natural  in- 
clination for  rocks ;  but 
the  lower  rocks  of  the 
final  peak  of  the  Verte 
were  not  inviting,  and  he 
went  on  and  on,  looking 
for  a  way  up  them,  until 
we  arrived  in  front  of  a 
great  snow -couloir  that 
led  from  the  Glacier  de 
Talefre  right  up  to  the 
crest  of  the  ridge  con- 
necting the  summit  of 
the  Verte  with  the  moun- 
tain called  Les  Droites. 
This  was  the  route  which 
I  intended  to  be  taken, 
but  Aimer  pointed  out 
that  the  gully  narrowed 
at  the  lower  part,  and 
that  if  stones  fell  we 
should  stand  some  chance  of  getting 
our  heads  broken ;  and  so  we  went  on 
still  more  to  the  east  of  the  summit,  to 
another  and  smaller  couloir  which  ran 
up  side  by  side  with  the  great  one.  At 
5.30  we  crossed  the  schrund  which  pro- 
tected the  final  peak,  and  a  few  minutes 
afterward  saw  the  summit  and  the  whole 
of  the  intervening  route.  "Oh,  Aiguille 
Verte  !"  said  my  guide,  stopping  as  he 
said  it,  "you  are  dead,  you  are  dead!" 
which,  being  translated  into  plain  Eng- 
lish, meant  that  he  was  cock-sure  we 
should  make  its  ascent. 

Aimer  is  a  quiet   man  at  all   times. 


140 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


When  climbing  he  is  taciturn,  and  this 
is  one  of  his  great  merits.  A  garrulous 
man  is  always  a  nuisance,  and  upon  the 
mountain-side  he  may  be  a  danger,  for 
actual  climbing  requires  a  man's  whole 
attention.  Added  to  this,  talkative  men 
are  hindrances  :  they  are  usually  thirsty, 
and  a  thirsty  man  is  a  drag. 

Guide-books  recommend  mountain- 
walkers  to  suck  pebbles  to  prevent  their 
throats  from  becoming  parched.  There 
is  not  much  goodness  to  be  got  out  of 
the  pebbles,  but  you  cannot  suck  them 
and  keep  the  mouth  open  at  the  same 
time,  and  hence  the  throat  does  not  be- 
come dry.  It  answers  just  as  well  to 
keep  the  mouth  shut,  without  any  peb- 
bles inside — indeed,  I  think,  better ;  for 
if  you  have  occasion  to  open  your  mouth 
you  can  do  so  without  swallowing  any 
pebbles.*  As  a  rule,  amateurs,  and 
particularly  novices,  will  not  keep  their 
mouths  shut.  They  attempt  to  "force 
the  pace  ;"  they  go  faster  than  they  can 
go  without  being  compelled  to  open  their 
mouths  to  breathe ;  they  pant,  their 
throats  and  tongues  become  parched; 
they  drink  and  perspire  copiously,  and, 
becoming  exhausted,  declare  that  the 
dryness  of  the  air  or  the  rarefaction  of 
the  air  (everything  is  laid  upon  the  air) 
is  in  fault.  On  several  accounts,  there- 
fore, a  mountain-climber  does  well  to 
hold  his  tongue  when  he  is  at  his  work. 

At  the  top  of  the  small  gully  we  cross- 
ed over  the  intervening  rocks  into  the 
large  one,  and  followed  it  so  long  as  it 
was  filled  with  snow.  At  last  ice  re- 
placed snow,  and  we  turned  over  to  the 
rocks  upon  its  left.  Charming  rocks 
they  were — granitic  in  texture,  gritty, 
holding  the  nails  well.  At  9.45  we  part- 
ed from  them,  and  completed  the  ascent 
by  a  little  ridge  of  snow  which  descend- 
ed in  the  direction  of  the  Aiguille  du 
Moine.  At  10.15  we  stood  on  the  sum- 
mit (13, 540  feet),  and  devoured  our  bread 
and  cheese  with  a  good  appetite. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  disap- 
pointing nature  of  purely  panoramic 

*I  heard  lately  of  two  well-known  mountaineers 
who,  under  the  influence  of  sudden  alarm,  swallowed 
their  crystals.  I  am  happy  to  say  that  they  were 
able  to  cough  them  up  again. 


views.  That  seen  from  Mont  Blanc 
itself  is  notoriously  unsatisfactory.  When 
you  are  upon  that  summit  you  look  down 
upon  all  the  rest  of  Europe.  There  is 
nothing  to  look  up  to — all  is  below; 
there  is  no  one  point  for  the  eye  to  rect 
upon.  The  man  who  is  there  is  some- 
what in  the  position  of  one  who  has  at- 
tained all  that  he  desires — he  has  noth- 
ing to  aspire  to  :  his  position  must  needs 
be  unsatisfactory.  Upon  the  summit  of 
the  Verte  there  is  not  this  objection. 
You  see  valleys,  villages,  fields  ;  you  see 
mountains  interminable  rolling  away, 
lakes  resting  in  their  hollows  ;  you  hear 
the  tinkling  of  the  sheep-bells  as  it  rises 
through  the  clear  mountain  air,  and  the 
roar  of  the  avalanches  as  they  descend 
to  the  valleys  ;  but  above  all  there  is  the 
great  white  dome,  with  its  shining  crest 
high  above ;  with  its  sparkling  glaciers, 
that  descend  between  buttresses  which 
support  them  ;  with  its  brilliant  snows, 
purer  and  yet  purer  the  farther  they  are 
removed  from  this  unclean  world. 

Even  upon  this  mountain-top  it  was 
impossible  to  forget  the  world,  for  some 
vile  wretch  came  to  the  Jardin  and  made 
hideous  sounds  by  blowing  upon  a  horn. 
Whilst  we  were  denouncing  him  a  change 
came  over  the  weather:  cumulous  clouds 
gathered  in  all  directions,  and  we  started 
off  in  hot  haste.  Snow  began  to  fall 
heavily  before  we  were  off  the  summit- 
rocks,  our  track  was  obscured  and  fre- 
quently lost,  and  everything  became  so 
sloppy  and  slippery  that  the  descent  took 
as  long  as  the  ascent.  The  schrund  was 
recrossed  at  3.15  P.  M.,  and  thence  we 
raced  down  to  the  Couvercle,  intending 
to  have  a  carouse  there ;  but  as  we 
rounded  our  rock  a  howl  broke  simul- 
taneously from  all  three  of  us,  for  the 
porter  had  taken  down  the  tent,  and  was 
in  the  act  of  moving  off  with  it.  "Stop, 
there!  what  are  you  doing?"  He  ob- 
served that  he  had  thought  we  were  kill- 
ed, or  at  least  lost,  and  was  going  to 
Chamounix  to  communicate  his  ideas  to 
the  guide  chef.  "  Unfasten  the  tent  and 
get  out  the  food."  But  instead  of  doing 
so,  the  porter  fumbled  in  his  pockets. 
"Get  out  the  food,"  we  roared,  losing  all 
patience.  "  Here  it  is,"  said  our  worthy 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS 


friend,  producing  a  dirty  piece  of  bread 
about  as  big  as  a  half-penny  roll.  We 
three  looked  solemnly  at  the  fluff-cover- 
ed morsel.  It  was  past  a  joke — he  had 
devoured  everything.  Mutton,  loaves, 
cheese,  wine,  eggs,  sausages — all  was 
gone  past  recovery.  It  was  idle  to  grum- 
ble and  useless  to  wait.  We  were  light, 
and  could  move  quickly — the  porter  was 
laden  inside  and  out.  We  went  our 
hardest — he  had  to  shuffle  and  trot.  He 
streamed  with  perspiration  ;  the  mutton 
and  cheese  oozed  out  in  big  drops  ;  he 
larded  the  glacier.  We  had  our  revenge, 
and  dried  our  clothes  at  the  same  time, 
but  when  we  arrived  at  the  Montanvert 
the  porter  was  as  wet  as  .we  had  been 
upon  our  arrival  at  the  Couvercle.  We 
halted  at  the  inn  to  get  a  little  food,  and 
at  a  quarter-past  eight  re-entered  Cha- 
mounix  amidst  firing  of  cannon  and 
other  demonstrations  of  satisfaction  on 
the  part  of  the  hotel-keepers. 

One  would  have  thought  that  the  as- 
cent of  this  mountain,  which  had  been 
frequently  assailed  before  without  suc- 
cess, would  have  afforded  some  gratifi- 
cation to  a  population  whose  chief  sup- 
port is  derived  from  tourists,  and  that 
the  prospect  of  the  perennial  flow  of 
francs  which  might  be  expected  to  result 
from  it  would  have  stifled  the  jealousy 
consequent  on  the  success  of  foreigners.* 

It  was  not  so.  Chamounix  stood  on 
its  rights.  A  stranger  had  ignored  their 
regulations,  had  imported  two  foreign 
guides,  and  furthermore  he  had  added 
injury  to  that  insult — he  had  not  taken 
a  single  Chamounix  guide.  Chamounix 
would  be  revenged  !  It  would  bully  the 
foreign  guides :  it  would  tell  them  they 
had  lied — they  had  not  made  the  ascent ! 
Where  were  their  proofs  ?  Where  was 
the  flag  upon  the  summit  ? 

Poor  Aimer  and  Biener  were  accord- 
ingly chivied  from  pillar  to  post,  from 
one  inn  to  another,  and  at  length  com- 
plained to  me.  Peter  Perm,  the  Zermatt 
guide,  said  on  the  night  that  we  returned 
that  this  was  to  happen,  but  the  story 
seemed  too  absurd  to  be  true.  I  now 
bade  my  men  go  out  again,  and  follow- 

*  The  Chamounix  tariff  price  for  the  ascent  of  the 
aiguille  is  now  placed  at  four  pounds  per  guide. 


ed  them  myself  to  see  the  sport.  Cha- 
mounix was  greatly  excited.  The  bureau 
of  the  guide  chef  was  thronged  with 
clamoring  men.  Their  ringleader — one 
Zacharie  Cachat,  a  well-known  guide, 
of  no  particular  merit,  but  not  a  bad 
fellow — was  haranguing  the  multitude. 
He  met  with  more  than  his  match.  My 
friend  Kennedy,  who  was  on  the  spot, 
heard  of  the  disturbance  and  rushed  into 
the  fray,  confronted  the  burly  guide  and 
thrust  back  his  absurdities  into  his  teeth. 

There  were  the  materials  for  a  very 
pretty  riot,  but  they  manage  these  things 
better  in  France  than  we  do,  and  the 
gensdarmes — three  strong — came  down 
and  dispersed  the  crowd.  The  guides 
quailed  before  the  cocked  hats,  and  re- 
tired to  cabarets  to  take  little  glasses  of 
absinthe  and  other  liquors  more  or  less 
injurious  to  the  human  frame.  Under 
the  influence  of  these  stimulants  they 
conceived  an  idea  which  combined  re- 
venge with  profit.  "  You  have  ascended 
the  Aiguille  Verte,  you  say.  We  say  we 
don't  believe  it.  We  say,  Do  it  again  ! 
Take  three  of  us  with  you,  and  we  will 
bet  you  two  thousand  francs  to  one  thou- 
sand that  you  won't  make  the  ascent !" 

This  proposition  was  formally  notified 
to  me,  but  I  declined  it  with  thanks,  and 
recommended  Kennedy  to  go  in  and 
win.  I  accepted,  however,  a  hundred- 
franc  share  in  the  bet,  and  calculated 
upon  getting. two  hundred  per  cent,  on 
my  investment.  Alas!  how  vain  are 
human  expectations  !  Zacharie  Cachat 
was  put  into  confinement,  and  although 
Kennedy  actually  ascended  the  aiguille 
a  week  later  with  two  Chamounix  guides 
and  Peter  Perm,  the  bet  came  to  nothing.f 

The  weather  arranged  itself  just  as  this 
storm  in  a  teapot  blew  over,  and  we  left 
at  once  for  the  Montanvert,  in  order  to 
show  the  Chamouniards  the  easiest  way 
over  the  chain  of  Mont  Blanc,  in  return 
for  the  civilities  which  we  had  received 
from  them  during  the  past  three  days. 

f  It  should  be  said  that  we  received  the  most  polite 
apologies  for  this  affair  from  the  chief  of  the  gens- 
darmes, and  an  invitation  to  lodge  a  complaint  against 
the  ringleaders.  We  accepted  his  apologies  and  de- 
clined his  invitation.  Needless  to  add,  Michel  Croz 
took  no  part  in  the  demonstration. 


WESTERN    SIDE    OF   THE   COL    DE    TALEFRE. 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
THE   COL   DE   TALEFRE. 

THE  person  who  discovered  the  Col 
du  Geant  must  have  been  a  shrewd 
mo  ntaineer.  The  pass  was  in  use  be- 
fore any  other  was  known  across  the 
main  chain  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  down  to 
the  present  time  it  remains  the  easiest 
and  quickest  route  from  Chamounix  to 
Courmayeur,  with  the  single  exception 
of  the  pass  that  we  crossed  upon  the  3d 
of  July  for  the  first  time,  which  lies  about 
midway  between  the  Aiguille  de  Triolet 
and  the  Aiguille  de  Talefre,  and  which, 
142 


for  want  of  a  better  name,  I  have  called 
the  Col  de  Talefre. 

When  one  looks  toward  the  upper 
end  of  the  Glacier  de  Talefre  from  the 
direction  of  the  Jardin  or  of  the  Couver- 
cle,  the  ridge  that  bounds  the  view  seems 
to  be  of  little  elevation.  It  is  overpow- 
ered by  the  colossal  Grandes  Jorasses 
and  by  the  almost  equally  magnificent 
Aiguille  Verte.  The  ridge,  notwithstand- 
ing, is  by  no  means  despicable.  At  no 
point  is  its  elevation  less  than  eleven 
thousand  six  hundred  feet.  It  does  not 
look  anything  like  this  height.  The 
Glacier  de  Talefre  mounts  with  a  steady 
incline,  and  the  eye  is  completely  de- 
ceived. 

In  1864,  when  prowling  about  with 
Mr.  Reilly,  I  instinctively  fixed  upon  a 
bent  couloir  which  led  up  from  the  gla- 
cier to  the  lowest  part  of  the  ridge  ;  and 
when,  after  crossing  the  Col  de  Triolet, 
I  saw  that  the  other  side  presented  no 
particular  difficulty,  it  seemed  to  me  that 
this  was  the  one  point  in  the  whole  of 
the  range  which  would  afford  an  easier 
passage  than  the  Col  du  Geant. 

We  set  out  from  the  Montanvert  at  4 
A.  M.  upon  July  3,  to  see  whether  this 
opinion  was  correct,  and  it  fortunately 
happened  that  the  Rev.  A.  G.  Girdle- 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


stone  and  a  friend,  with  two  Chamoimix 
guides,  left  the  inn  at  the  same  hour  as 
ourselves,  to  cross  the  Col  du  Geant. 
We  kept  in  company  as  far  as  our  routes 
lay  together,  and  at  9.35  we  arrived  at 
the  top  of  our  pass,  having  taken  the 
route  to  the  south  of  the  Jardin.  De- 
scription is  unnecessary,  as  our  track  is 
laid  down  very  clearly  on  the  engraving 
at  the  head  of  this  chapter. 

Much  snow  had  fallen  during  the  late 
bad  weather,  and  as  we  reposed  upon 
the  top  of  our  pass  (which  was  about 
eleven  thousand  six  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  six 
hundred  feet  above  the  Col  clii  Geant), 
we  saw  that  the  descent  of  the  rocks 
which  intervened  between  us  and  the 
Glacier  de  Triolet  would  require  some 
caution,  for  the  sun's  rays  poured  down 
directly  upon  them,  and  the  snow  slip- 
ped away  every  now  and  then  from  ledge 
to  ledge  just  as  if  it  had  been  water — in 
cascades  not  large  enough  to  be  impos- 
ing, but  sufficient  to  knock  us  over  if  we 
got  in  their  way.  This  little  bit  of  cliff 
consequently  took  a  longer  time  than  it 
should  have  done,  for  when  we  heard 
the  indescribable  swishing,  hissing  sound 
which  announced  a  coming  fall,  we  of 
necessity  huddled  under  the  lee  of  the 
rocks  until  the  snow  ceased  to  shoot 
over  us. 

We  got  to  the  level  of  the  Glacier  de 
Triolet  without  misadventure,  then  steer- 
ed for  its  left  bank  to  avoid  the  upper  of 
its  two  formidable  ice-falls,  and  after  de- 
scending the  requisite  distance  by  some 
old  snow  lying  between  the  glacier  and 
the  cliffs  which  border  it,  crossed  direct- 
ly to  the  right  bank  over  the  level  ice 
between  the  two  ice-falls.  The  right 
bank  was  gained  without  any  trouble, 
and  we  found  there  numerous  beds  of 
hard  snow  (avalanche  debris),  down 
which  we  could  run  or  glissade  as  fast 
as  we  liked. 

Glissading  is  a  very  pleasant  employ- 
ment when  it  is  accomplished  success- 
fully, and  I  have  never  seen  a  place 
where  it  can  be  more  safely  indulged  in 
than  the  snowy  valley  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Glacier  de  Triolet.  In  my  dreams 
I  glissade  delightfully,  but  in  practice  I 


find  that  somehow  the  snow  will  not  be- 
have properly,  and  that  my  alpenstock 
will  get  between  my  legs.  Then  rny 
legs  go  where  my  head  should  be,  and  I 


see  the  sky  revolving  at  a  rapid  pace : 
the  snow  rises  up  and  smites  me,  and 
runs  away,  and  when  it  is  at  last  over- 
taken it  suddenly  stops,  and  we  come 
into  violent  collision.  Those  who  are 
with  me  say  that  I  tumble  head  over 
heels,  and  there  may  be  some  truth  in 
what  they  say.  Streaks  of  ice  are  apt 
to  make  the  heels  shoot  away,  and  stray 
stones,  cause  one  to  pitch  headlong  down. 
Somehow,  these  things  always  seem  to 
come  in  the  way,  so  it  is  as  well  to  glis- 
sade only  when  there  is  something  soft 
to  tumble  into.* 

Near  the  termination  of  the  glacier  we 
could  not  avoid  traversing  a  portion  of 
its  abominable  moraine,  but  at  1.30  p.  M. 
we  were  clear  of  it,  and  threw  ourselves 
upon  some  springy  turf,  conscious  that 
our  day's  work  was  over.  An  hour  after- 
ward we  resumed  the  march,  crossed  the 
Doire  torrent  by  a  bridge  a  little  below 
Gruetta,  and  at  five  o'clock  entered  Cour- 
mayeur,  having  occupied  somewhat  less 
than  ten  hours  on  the  way.  Mr.  Girdle- 
stone's  party  came  in,  I  believe,  about 
four  hours  afterward,  so  there  was  no 
doubt  that  we  made  a  shorter  pass  than 
the  Col  du  Geant ;  and  I  believe  we  dis- 

*  In  glissading  an  erect  position  should  be  main- 
tained, and  the  point  of  the  alpenstock  allowed  to 
trail  over  the  snow.  If  it  is  necessary  to  stop  or  to 
slacken  speed,  the  point  is  pressed  against  the  slope, 
as  shown  in  the  illustration. 


144 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  iS6o-'69. 


covered  a  quicker  way  of  getting  from 
Chamounix  to  Courmayeur,  or  vice  versa, 
than  will  be  found  elsewhere  so  long  as 
the  chain  of  Mont  Blanc  remains  in  its 
present  condition. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

ASCENT    OF    THE    RUINETTE — THE   MATTER- 
'  HORN. 

ALL  of  the  excursions  that  were  set 
down  in  my  programme  had  been  car- 
ried out,  with  the  exception  of  the  ascent 
of  the  Matterhorn,  and  we  now  turned  our 
faces  in  its  direction,  but  instead  of  re- 
turning via  the  Val  Tournanche,  we  took 
a  route  across  country,  and  bagged  upon 
our  way  the  summit  of  the  Ruinette. 
.  We  passed  the  night  of  July  4  at 
Aosta,  under  the  roof  of  the  genial  Tair- 
raz,  and  on  the  5th  went  by  the  Val 
d'Ollomont  and  the  Col  de  la  Fenetre 
(9140  feet)  to  Chermontane.  We  slept 
that  night  at  the  chalets  of  Chanrion  (a 
foul  spot,  which  should  be  avoided),  left 
them  at  3.50  the  next  morning,  and  after 
a  short  scramble  over  the  slope  above, 
and  a  half-mile  tramp  on  the  Glacier 
de  Breney,  we  crossed  directly  to  the 
Ruinette,  and  went  almost  straight  up  it. 
There  is  not,  I  suppose,  another  moun- 
tain in  the  Alps  of  the  same  height  that 
can  be  ascended  so  easily.  You  have 
only  to  go  ahead  :  upon  its  southern  side 
one  can  walk  about  almost  anywhere. 

Though  I  speak  thus  slightingly  of  a 
very  respectable  peak,  I  will  not  do  any- 
thing of  the  kind  in  regard  to  the  view 
which  it  gives.  It  is  happily  placed  in 
respect  to  the  rest  of  the  Pennine  Alps, 
and  as  a  stand-point  it  has  not  many 
superiors.  You  see  mountains,  and 
nothing  but  mountains.  It  is  a  solemn 
— some  would  say  a  dreary — view,  but 
it  is  very  grand.  The  great  Combin 
(14,164  feet),  with  its  noble  background 
of  the  whole  range  of  Mont  Blanc, 
never  looks  so  big  as  it  does  from  here. 
In  the  contrary  direction  the  Matter- 
horn  overpowers  all  besides.  The  Dent 
d' Kerens,  although  closer,  looks  a  mere 
outlier  of  its  great  neighbor,  and  the 
snows  of  Monte  Rosa  behind  seem  in- 


tended for  no  other  purpose  than  to  give 
relief  to  the  crags  in  front.  To  the  south 
there  is  an  endless  array  of  Bees  and 
Beccas,  backed  by  the  great  Italian 
peaks,  whilst  to  the  north  Mont  Pleureur 
( 1 2, 1 59  feet)  holds  its  own  against  the 
more  distant  Wildstrubel. 

We  gained  the  summit  at  9.15,  and 
stayed  there  an  hour  and  a  half.  My 
faithful  guides  then  admonished  me  that 
Prerayen,  whither  we  were  bound,  was 
still  far  away,  and  that  we  had  yet  to 
cross  two  lofty  ridges.  So  we  resumed 
our  harness  and  departed  ;  not,  however, 
before  a  huge  cairn  had  been  built  out 
of  the  blocks  of  gneiss  with  which  the 
summit  is  bestrewn.  Then  we  trotted 
down  the  slopes  of  the  Ruinette,  over 
the  Glacier  de  Breney,  and  across  a  pass 
which  (if  it  deserves  a  name)  may  be 
called  the  Col  des  Portons,  after  the 
neighboring  peaks.  From  thence  we 
proceeded  across  the  great  Otemma 
glacier  toward  the  Col  d'Olen. 

The  part  of  the  glacier  that  we  trav- 
ersed was  overspread  with  snow,  which 
completely  concealed  its  numerous  pit- 
falls. We  marched  across  it  in  single 
file,  and  of  course  roped  together.  All 
at  once  Aimer  dropped  into  a  crevasse 
up  to  his  shoulders.  I  pulled  in  the 
rope  immediately,  but  the  snow  gave 
way  as  it  was  being  done,  and  I  had  to 
spread  out  my  arms  to  stop  my  descent. 
Biener  held  fast,  but  said  afterward  that 
his  feet  went  through  as  well,  so,  for  a 
moment,  all  three  were  in  the  jaws  of 
the  crevasse.  We  now  altered  our  course, 
so  as  to  take  the  fissures  transversely, 
and  after  the  centre  of  the  glacier  was 
passed,  changed  it  again  and  made  di- 
rectly for  the  summit  of  the  Col  d'Olen. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  observe, 
after  what  has  been  before  said,  that  it 
is  my  invariable  practice  to  employ  a 
rope  when  traversing  a"  snow-covered 
glacier.  Many  guides,  even  the  best 
ones,  object  to  be  roped,  more  especially 
early  in  the  morning,  when  the  snow  is 
hard.  They  object  sometimes  because 
they  think  it  is  unnecessary.  Crevasses 
that  are  bridged  by  snow  are  almost  al- 
ways more  or  less  perceptible  by  undu- 
lations on  the  surface  :  the  snow  droops 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS   IN  i86o-'69 


down,  and  hollows  mark  the  course  of  the 
chasms  beneath.  An  experienced  guide 
usually  notices  these  almost  impercep- 
tible wrinkles,  steps  one  side  or  the  other, 
as  the  case  may  require,  and  rarely 
breaks  through  unawares.  Guides  think 
there  is  no  occasion  to  employ  a  rope, 
because  they  think  that  they  will  not  be 
taken  by  surprise.  Michel  Croz  used  to 
be  of  this  opinion.  He  used  to  say  that 
only  imbeciles  and  children  required  to 
be  tied  up  in  the  morning.  I  told  him 
that  in  this  particular  matter  I  was  a 
child  to  him.  "You  see  these  things, 
my  good  Croz,  and  avoid  them.  I  do 
not,  except  you  point  them  out  to  me, 
and  so  that  which  is  not  a  danger  to  you 
is  a  danger  to  me."  The  sharper  one's 
eyes  get  by  use,  the  less  is  a  rope  required 
as  a  protective  against  these  hidden  pit- 
falls, but  according  to  my  experience 
the  sight  never  becomes  so  keen  that 
they  can  be  avoided  with  unvarying  cer- 
tainty, and  I  mentioned  what  occurred 
upon  the  Otemma  glacier  to  show  that 
this  is  so. 

I  well  remember  my  first  passage  of 
the  Col  Theodule,  the  easiest  of  the 
higher  Alpine  glacier  passes.  We  had 
a  rope,  but  my  guide  said  it  was  not 
necessary — he  knew  all  the  crevasses. 
However,  we  did  not  go  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  before  he  dropped  through  the  snow 
into  a  crevasse  up  to  his  neck.  He  was 
a  heavy  man,  and  would  scarcely  have 
extricated  himself  alone ;  anyhow,  he 
was  very  glad  of  my  assistance.  When 
he  got  on  to  his  legs  again,  he  said, 
"  Well,  I  had  no  idea  that  there  was  a 
crevasse  there."  He  no  longer  objected 
to  use  the  rope,  and  we  proceeded — 
upon  my  part  with  greater  peace  of  mind 
than  before.  I  have  crossed  the  pass 
thirteen  times  since  then,  and  have  in- 
variably insisted  upon  being  tied. 

Guides  object  to  the  use  of  the  rope 
upon  snow-covered  glacier,  because  they 
are  afraid  of  being  laughed  at  by  their 
comrades  ;  and  this,  perhaps,  is  the  more 
common  reason.  To  illustrate  this,  here 
is  another  Theodule  experience.  We 
arrived  at  the  edge  of  the  ice,  and  I  re- 
quired to  be  tied.  My  guide  (a  Zermatt 
man  of  repute)  said  that  no  one  used  a 


rope  going  across  that  pass.  I  declined 
to  argue  the  matter,  and  we  put  on  the 
rope,  though  very  much  against  the  wish 
of  my  man,  who  protested  that  he  should 
have  to  submit  to  perpetual  ridicule  if 
we  met  any  of  his  acquaintances.  We 
had  not  gone  very  far  before  we  saw  a 
train  coming  in  the  contrary  direction. 

"Ah  !"  cried  my  man,  "there  is  R " 

(mentioning  a  guide  who  used  to  be  kepi 
at  the  Riffel  hotel  for  the  ascent  of  Monte 
Rosa):  "it  will  be  as  I  said  —  I  shall 
never  hear  the  end  of  this."  The  guide 
we  met  was  followed  by  a  string  of  tom- 
fools, none  of  whom  were  tied  together, 
and  had  his  face  covered  by  a  mask  to 
prevent  it  becoming  blistered.  After  we 

had  passed,  I  said,  "  Now,  should  R 

make  any  observations  to  you,  ask  him 
why  he  takes  such  extraordinary  care  to 
preserve  the  skin  of  his  face,  which  will 
grow  again  in  a  week,  when  he  neglects 
such  an  obvious  precaution  in  regard  to 
his  life,  which  he  can  only  lose  once." 
This  was  quite  a  new  idea  to  my  guide, 
and  he  said  nothing  more  against  the  use 
of  the  rope  so  long  as  we  were  together. 

I  believe  that  the  unwillingness  to  use 
a  rope  upon  snow-covered  glacier  which 
born  mountaineers  not  unfrequently  ex- 
hibit, arises — first,  on  the  part  of  expert 
men  from  the  consciousness  that  they 
themselves  incur  little  risk  ;  secondly, 
on  the  part  of  inferior  men  from  fear 
of  ridicule,  and  from  aping  the  ways  of 
their  superiors  ;  and  'thirdly,  from  pure 
ignorance  or  laziness.  Whatever  may 
be  the  reason,  I  raise  my  voice  against 
the  neglect  of  a  precaution  so  simple 
and  so  effectual.  In  my  opinion,  the 
very  first  thing  a  glacier-traveler  requires 
is  plenty  of  good  rope. 

A  committee  of  the  English  Alpine 
Club  was  appointed  in  1864  to  test,  and 
to  report  upon,  the  most  suitable  ropes 
for  mountaineering  purposes,  and  those 
which  were  approved  are  probably  as 
good  as  can  be  found.  One  is  made  of 
Manila  and  another  of  Italian  hemp. 
The  former  is  the  heavier,  and  weighs  a 
little  more  than  an  ounce  per  foot  (10^ 
ounces  to  100  feet).  The  latter  weighs 
79  ounces  per  100  feet,  but  I  prefer  the 
Manila  rope,  because  it  is  more  easy 


146 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'6g. 


to  handle.  Both  of  these  ropes  will  sus- 
tain 168  pounds  falling  10  feet,  or  196 
pounds  falling  8  feet,  and  they  break 
with  a  dead  weight  of  two  tons.  In 
1865  we  carried  two  loo-feet  lengths  of 
the  Manila  rope,  and  the  inconvenience 
arising  from  its  weight  was  more  than 
made  up  for  by  the  security  which  it 
afforded.  Upon  several  occasions  it  was 
worth  more  than  an  extra  guide. 

Now,  touching  the  iisc  of  the   rope. 
There  is  a  right  way  and  there  are  wrong 
ways   of  using  it.     I  often  meet,  upon 
glacier-passes,  elegantly  got-up  persons, 
who  are    clearly   out   of  their  element, 
with  a  guide  stalking  along 
in  front,  who  pays  no  atten- 
tion to  the  innocents  in  his 
charge.     They    are   tied   to- 
gether as  a  matter  of  form, 
but  they  evidently  have   no 
idea  iv/iy  they  are  tied   up, 
for  they  walk  side  by  side  or 
close  together,  with  the  rope 
trailing  on  the  snow.     If  one 
tumbles  into  a  crevasse,  the 
rest  stare  and  say,  "  La  !  what 
is  the  matter  with   Smith?" 
unless,  as  is  more  likely,  they  all  tum- 
ble in  together.     This  is  the  wrong  way 
to  use  a  rope.     It  is  abuse  of  the  rope. 


It  is  of  the  first  importance  to  keep 
the  rope  taut  from  man  to  man.  There 
is  no  real  security  if  this  is  not  done,  and 
your  risks  may  be  considerably  magni- 
fied. There  is  little  or  no  difficulty  in 
extricating  one  man  who  breaks  through 
a  bridged  crevasse  if  the  rope  is  taut, 
but  the  case  may  be  very  awkward  if 
two  break  through  at  the  same  moment, 
close  together,  and  there  are  only  two 
others  to  aid,  or  perhaps  only  one  other. 
Further,  the  rope  ought  not  upon  any 
account  to  graze  over  snow,  ice  or  rocks, 
otherwise  the  strands  suffer  and  the  lives 
of  the  whole  party  may  be  endangered. 


THE    WRONG    WAY    TO    USE   THE    ROPE. 


Apart  from  this,  it  is  extremely  annoy- 
ing to  have  a  rope  knocking  about  one's 
heels.  If  circumstances  render  it  im- 


possible for  the  rope  to  be  kept  taut  by 
itself,  the  men  behind  should  gather  it 
up  round  their  hands,"""  and  not  allow 
it  to  incommode  those  in  advance.  A 
man  must  either  be  incompetent,,  care- 
less or  selfish  if  he  permits  the  rope  to 
dangle  about  the  heels  of  the  person  in 
front  of  him. 

The  distance  from  man  to  man  must 
be  neither  too  great  nor  too  small.  About 

*  For  example,  when  the  leader  suspects  crevasses, 
and  sounds  for  them  in  the  manner  shown  in  the  en- 
graving, he  usually  loses  half  a  step1  or  more.  The 
second  man  should  take  a  turn  of  the  rope  around  his 
hand  to  draw  it  back  in  case  the  leader  goes  through. 


twelve  feet  is  sufficient.  If  there  are  only 
two  or  three  persons,  it  is  prudent  to  allow 
a  little  more  —  say  fifteen  feet.  More 
than  this  is  unnecessary,  and  less  than 
nine  or  ten  feet  is  not  much  good. 

It  is  essential  to  examine  your  rope 
from  time  to  time  to  see  that  it  is  in  good 
condition.  If  you  are  wise  you  will  do 
this  yourself  every  day.  Latterly,  I  have 
examined  every  inch  of  my  rope  over- 
night, and  upon  more  than  one  occa- 
sion have  found  the  strands  of  the  Ma- 
nila rope  nearly  half  severed  through 
accidental  grazes. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


H7 


Thus  far  the  rope  has  been  supposed 
to  be  employed  upon  level,  snow-cov- 
ered glacier,  to  prevent  any  risk  from 
concealed  crevasses.  On  rocks  and  on 
slopes  it  is  used  for  a  different  purpose 
(namely,  to  guard  against  slips),  and  in 
these  cases  it  is  equally  important  to 
keep  it  taut  and  to  preserve  a  reason- 
able distance  one  from  the  other.  It  is 
much  more  troublesome  to  keep  the  rope 
taut  upon  slopes  than  upon  the  level, 
and  upon  difficult  rocks  it  is  all  but  im- 
possible, except  by  adopting  the  plan  of 
moving  only  one  at  a  time. 

From  the  Col  d'Olen  we  proceeded 
down  the  combe  of  the  same  name  to 
the  chalets  of  Prerayen,  and  passed  the 
night  of  the  6th  under  the  roof  of  our 
old  acquaintance,  the  wealthy  herds- 
man. On  the  7th  we  crossed  the  Va 
Cornere  Pass,  en  route  for  Breuil.  My 
thoughts  were  fixed  on  the  Matterhorn, 
and  my  guides  knew  that  I  wished  them 
to  accompany  me.  They  had  an  aver- 
sion to  the  mountain,  and  repeatedly 
expressed  their  belief  that  it  was  useless 
to  try  to  ascend  it.  "Anything  but  Mat- 
terhorn, dear  sir!"  said  Aimer — "any- 
thing but  Matterhorn."  He  did  not 
speak  of  difficulty  or  of  danger,  nor  was 
he  shirking  work.  He  offered  to  go 
anywhere,  but  he  entreated  that  the  Mat- 
terhorn should  be  abandoned.  Both 
men  spoke  fairly  enough.  They  did 
not  think  that  an  ascent  could  be  made, 
and  for  their  own  credit,  as  well  as  for 
my  sake,  they  did  not  wish  to  undertake 
a  business  which  in  their  opinion  would 
only  lead  to  loss  of  time  and  money. 

I  sent  them  by  the  short  cut  to  Breuil, 
and  walked  down  to  Val  Tournanche  to 
look  for  Jean-Antoine  Carrel.  He  was 
not  there.  The  villagers  said  that  he 
and  three  others  had  started  on  the  6th 
to  try  the  Matterhorn  by  the  old  way,  on 
their  own  account.  They  will  have  no 
luck,  I  thought,  for  the  clouds  were  low 
down  on  the  mountains  ;  and  I  walked 
up  to  Breuil,  fully  expecting  to  meet 
them.  Nor  was  I  disappointed.  About 
halfway  up  I  saw  a  group  of  men  clus- 
tered around  a  chalet  upon  the  other 
side  of  the  torrent,  and  crossing  over 


found  that  the  party  had  returned. 
Jean-Antoine  and  Caesar  were  there,  C. 
E.  Gorret  and  J.  J.  Maquignaz.  They 
had  had  no  success.  The  weather,  thev 
said,  had  been  horrible,  and  they  .had 
scarcely  reached  the  Glacier  du  Lion. 

I  explained  the  situation  to  Carrel,  and 
proposed  that  we,  with  Caesar  and  an- 
other man,  should  cross  the  Theodule 
by  moonlight  on  the  9th,  and  that  upon 
the  loth  we  sho-uld  pitch  the  tent  as  high 
as  possible  upon  the  east  face.  He  was 
unwilling  to  abandon  the  old  route,  and 
urged  me  to  try  it  again.  I  promised 
to  do  so  provided  the  new  route  failed. 
This  satisfied  him,  and  he  agreed  to  my 
proposal.  I  then  went  up  to  Breuil,  and 
discharged  Aimer  and  Biener  —  with 
much  regret,  for  no  two  men  ever  served 
me  more  faithfully  or  more  willingly.* 
On  the  next  day  they  crossed  to  Zermatt. 

The  8th  was  occupied  with  prepara- 
tions. The  weather  was  stormy,  and 
black,  rainy  vapors  obscured  the  moun- 
tains. Toward  evening  a  young  man 
came  from  Val  Tournanche,  and  report- 
ed that  an  Englishman  was  lying  there 
extremely  ill.  Now  was  the  time  for  the 
performance  of  my  vow,  and  on  the 
morning  of  Sunday,  the  9th,  I  went 
down  the  valley  to  look  after  the  sick 
man.  On  my  way  I  passed  a  foreign 
gentleman,  with  a  mule  and  several 
porters  laden  with  baggage.  Amongst 
these  men  were  Jean-Antoine  and  Caesar, 
carrying  some  barometers.  "  Hullo  !"  I 
said,  "what  are  you  doing  ?"  They  ex- 
plained that  the  foreigner  had  arrived 
just  as  they  were  setting  out,  and  that 
they  were  assisting  his  porters.  "Very 
well :  go  on  to  Breuil,  and  await  me  there 
— we  start  at  midnight,  as  agreed."  Jean- 
Antoine  then  said  that  he  should  not  be 
able  to  serve  me  after  Tuesday,  the  I  ith, 
as  he  was  engaged  to  travel  "with  a 
family  of  distinction  "  in  the  valley  of 
Aosta.  "And  Caesar?"  "And  Caesar 
also."  "Why  did  you  not  say  this  be- 
fore ?"  "  Because,"  said  he,  "  it  was  not 
settled.  The  engagement  is  of  long 

*  During  the  preceding  eighteen  days  (I  exclude 
Sundays  and  other  non-working  days)  we  ascended 
more  than  one  hundred  thousand  feet,  and  descended 
ninety-eight  thousand  feet. 


148 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


standing,  but  the  day  was  not  fixed. 
When  I  got  back  to  Val  Tournanche  on 
Friday  night,  after  leaving  you,  I  found 
a  letter  naming  the  day."  I  could  not 
object  to  the  answer,  but  the  prospect  of 
being  left  guideless  was  provoking.  They 
went  up,  and  I  down,  the  valley. 

The  sick  man  declared  that  he  was 
better,  though  the  exertion  of  saying  as 
much  tumbled  him  over  on  to  the  floor 
in  a  fainting-fit.  He  was  badly  in  want 
of  medicine,  and  I  tramped  down  to 
Chatillon  to  get  it.  It  was  late  before  I 
returned  to  Val  Tournanche,  for  the 
weather  was  tempestuous  and  rain  fell 
in  torrents.  A  figure  passed  me  under 
the  church-porch.  "  Qui  vive  ?"  "Jean- 
Antoine."  "I  thought  you  were  at  Breuil." 
"  No,  sir :  when  the  storm  came  on  I 
knew  we  should  not  start  to-night,  and 
so  came  down  to  sleep  here."  "  Ha, 
Carrel,"  I  said,  "this  is  a  great  bore. 
If  to-morrow  is  not  fine,  we  shall  not  be 
able  to  do  anything  together.  I  have 
sent  away  my  guides,  relying  on  you, 
and  now  you  are  going  to  leave  me  to 
travel  with  a  party  of  ladies.  That  work 
is  not  fit  for  you"  (he  smiled,  I  supposed 
at  the  implied  compliment)  :  "can't  you 
send  some  one  else  instead?"  "No, 
monsieur.  I  am  sorry,  but  my  word  is 
pledged.  I  should  like  to  accompany 
you,  but  I  can't  break  my  engagement." 
By  this  time  we  had  arrived  at  the  inn 
door.  "Well,  it  is  no  fault  of  yours. 
Come  presently  with  Caesar,  and  have 
some  wine."  They  came,  and  we  sat 
up  till  midnight,  recounting  our  old  ad- 
ventures, in  the  inn  of  Val  Tournanche. 

The  weather  continued  bad  upon  the 
loth,  and  L  returned  to  Breuil.  The  two 
Carrels  were  again  hovering  about  the 
above-mentioned  chalet,  and  I  bade 
them  adieu.  In  the  evening  the  sick 
man  crawled  up,  a  good  deal  better,  but 
his  was  the  only  arrival.  The  Monday 
crowd  *  did  not  cross  the  Theodule,  on 
account  of  the  continued  storms.  The 
inn  was  lonely.  I  went  to  bed  early, 
and  was  awoke  the  next  morning  by  the 
invalid  inquiring  if  I  had  heard  the  news. 

*  Tourists  usually  congregate  at  Zermatt  upon  Sun- 
days, and  large  gangs  and  droves  cross  the  Theodule 
pass  on  Mondays. 


"  No — what  news  ?"  "  Why,"  said  he,  "  a 
large  party  of  guides  went  off  this  morn- 
ing to  try  the  Matterhorn,  taking  with 
them  a  mule  laden  with  provisions." 

I  went  to  the  door,  and  with  a  tele- 
scope saw  the  party  upon  the  lower 
slopes  of  the  mountain.  Favre,  the 
landlord,  stood  by.  "What  is  all  this 
about?"  I  inquired:  "who  is  the  leader 
of  this  party?"  "Carrel."  "What! 
Jean-Antoine  ?"  "Yes,  Jean-Antoine." 
"Is  Caesar  there  too?"  "Yes,  he  is 
there."  Then  I  saw  in  a  moment  that  I 
had  been  bamboozled  and  humbugged, 
and  learned,  bit  by  bit,  that  the  affair 
had  been  arranged  long  beforehand. 
The  start  on  the  6th  had  been  for  a  pre- 
liminary reconnaissance ;  the  mule  that 
I  passed  was  conveying  stores  for  the 
attack;  the  "family  of  distinction"  was 
Signer  F.  Giordano,  who  had  just  des- 
patched the  party  to  facilitate  the  way 
to  the  summit,  and  who,  when  the  facil- 
itation was  completed,  was  to  be  taken 
to  the  top  along  with  Signor  Sella  !  f 

I  was  greatly  mortified.  My  plans 
were  upset :  the  Italians  had  clearly 
stolen  a  march  upon  me,  and  I  saw  that 
the  astute  Favre  chuckled  over  my  dis- 
comfiture, because  the  route  by  the  east- 
ern face,  if  successful,  would  not  benefit 
his  inn.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  I  re- 
tired to  my  room,  and,  soothed  by  to- 
bacco, re-studied  my  plans,  to  see  if  it 
was  not  possible  to  outmanoeuvre  the 
Italians.  -"They  have  taken  a  mule- 
load  of  provisions."  That  is  one  point 
in  my  favor,  for  they  will  take  two  or 
three  days  to  get  through  the  food,  and 
until  that  is  done  no  work  will  be  ac- 
complished." "How  is  the  weather?" 
I  went  to  the  window.  The  mountain 
was  smothered  up  in  mist — another  point 
in  my  favor.  "  They  are  to  facilitate  the 
way.  Well,  if  they  do  that  to  any  pur- 
pose, it  will  be  a  long  job."  Altogether, 
I  reckoned  that  they  could  not  possibly 
ascend  the  mountain  and  come  back  to 
Breuil  in  less  than  seven  days.  I  got 
cooler,  for  it  was  evident  that  the  wily 
ones  might  be  outwitted  after  all.  There 
was  time  enough  to  go  to  Zermatt,  to  try 

fThe  Italian  minister.  Signor  Giordano  had  un- 
dertaken the  business  arrangements  for  Signor  Sella. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


149 


the  eastern  face,  and,  should  it  prove  im- 
practicable, to  come  back  to  Breuil  be- 
fore the  men  returned  ;  and  then  it  seem- 
ed to  me,  as  the  mountain  was  not  pad- 
locked, one  might  start  at  the  same  time 
as  the  messieurs,  and  yet  get  to  the  top 
before  them. 

The  first  thing  to  do  was  to  go  to  Zer- 
matt.  Easier  said  than  done.  The 
seven  guides  upon  the  mountain  in- 
cluded the  ablest  men  in  the  valley,  and 
none  of  the  ordinary  muleteer-guides 
were  at  Breuil.  Two  men,  at  least,  were 
wanted  for  my  baggage,  but  not  a  soul 
could  be  found.  I  ran  about  and  sent 
about  in  all  directions,  but  not  a  single 
porter  could  be  obtained.  One  was  with 
Carrel,  another  was  ill,  another  was  at 
Chatillon,  and  so  forth.  Even  Meynet 
the  hunchback  could  not  be  induced  to 
come :  he  was  in  the  thick  of  some  im- 
portant cheese -making  operations.  I 
was  in  the  position  of  a  general  without 
an  army  :  it  was  all  very  well  to  make 
plans,  but  there  was  no  one  to  execute 
them.  This  did  not  much  trouble  me,  for 
it  was  evident  that  so  long  as  the  weather 
stopped  traffic  over  the  Theodule,  it  would 
hinder  the  men  equally  upon  the  Matter- 
horn  ;  and  I  knew  that  directly  it  im- 
proved company  would  certainly  arrive. 

About  midday  on  Tuesday,  the  nth, 
a  large  party  hove  in  sight  from  Zermatt, 
preceded  by  a  nimble  young  English- 
man and  one  of  old  Peter  Taugwalder's 
sons.*  I  went  at  once  to  this  gentleman 
to  learn  if  he  could  dispense  with  Taug- 
walder.  He  said  that  he  could  not,  as 
they  were  going  to  recross  to  Zermatt 
on  the  morrow,  but  that  the  young  man 
should  assist  in  transporting  my  bag- 
gage, as  he  had  nothing  to  carry.  We 
naturally  got  into  conversation.  I  told 
my  story,  and  learned  that  the  young 
Englishman  was  Lord  Francis  Douglas, f 
whose  recent  exploit — the  ascent  of  the 
Gabelhorn— had  excited  my  wonder  and 
admiration.  He  brought  good  news. 
Old  Peter  had  lately  been  beyond  the 
Hornli,  and  had  reported  that  he  thought 

*  Peter  Taugwalder,  the  father,  is  called  old  Peter, 
to  distinguish  him  from  his  eldest  son,  young  Peter. 
Fn  1865  the  father's  age  was  ahout  forty-five. 

f  Brother  of  the  present  marquis  of  Queensbury. 


an  ascent  of  the  Matterhorn  was  pos- 
sible upon  that  side.  Aimer  had  left 
Zermatt,  and  could  not  be  recovered, 
so  I  determined  to  seek  for  old  Peter. 
Lord  Francis  Douglas  expressed  a  warm 
desire  to  ascend  the  mountain,  and  be- 
fore long  it  was  determined  "that  he 
should  take  part  in  the  expedition. 

Favre  could  no  longer  hinder  our  de- 
parture, and  lent  us  one  of  his  men.  We 
crossed  the  Col  Theodule  on  Wednes- 
day morning,  the  I2th  of  July,  rounded 
the  foot  of  the  Ober  Theodulgletscher, 
crossed  the  Furggengletscher,  and  de- 
posited tent,  blankets,  ropes  and  other 
things  in  the  little  chapel  at  the  Schwarz- 
see.  All  four  were  heavily  laden,  for 
we  brought  across  the  whole  of  my  stores 
from  Breuil.  Of  rope  alone  there  were 
about  six  hundred  feet.  There  were 
three  kinds  :  first,  two  hundred  feet  of 
Manila  rope ;  second,  one  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  of  a  stouter  and  probably  strong- 
er rope  than  the  first ;  and  third,  more 
than  two  hundred  feet  of  a  lighter  and 
weaker  rope  than  the  first,  of  a  kind  that 
I  used  formerly  (stout  sash-line). 
^  We  descended  to  Zermatt,  sought  and 
engaged  old  Peter,  'and  gave  him  per- 
mission to  choose  another  guide.  When 
we  returned  to  the  Monte  Rosa  hotel, 
whom  should  we  see  sitting  upon  the 
wall  in  front  but  my  old  guide-chef, 
Michel  Croz !  I  supposed  that  he  had 

come  with  Mr.  B ,  but  I  learned  that 

that  gentleman  had  arrived  in  ill  health 
at  Chamounix,  and  had  returned  to  Eng- 
land. Croz,  thus  left  free,  had  been  im- 
mediately engaged  by  the  Rev.  Charles 
Hudson,  and  they  had  come  to  Zermatt 
with  the  same  object  as  ourselves  — 
namely,  to  attempt  the  ascent  of  the 
Matterhorn  ! 

Lord  Francis  Douglas  and  I  dined  at 
the  Monte  Rosa,  and  had  just  finished 
when  Mr.  Hudson  and  a  friend  entered 
the  salle  a  manger.  They  had  returned 
from  inspecting  the  mountain,  and  some 
idlers  in  the  room  demanded  their  in- 
tentions. We  heard  a  confirmation  of 
Croz's  statement,  and  learned  that  Mr. 
Hudson  intended  to  set  out  on  the  mor- 
row at  the  same  hour  as  ourselves.  We 
left  the  room  to  consult,  and  'agreed  it 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


was  undesirable  that  two  independent 
parties  should  be  on  the  mountain  at  the 
same  time  with  the  same  object.  Mr. 
Hudson  was  therefore  invited  to  join  us, 
and  he  accepted  our  proposal.  Before 
admitting  his  friend,  Mr.  Hadow,  I  took 
the  precaution  to  inquire  what  he  had 
done  in  the  Alps,  and,  as  well  as  I  re- 
member, Mr.  Hudson's  reply  was,  "  Mr. 
Hadow  has  done  Mont  Blanc  in  less  time 
than  most  men."  He  then  mentioned 
several  other  excursions,  that  were  un- 
known to  me,  and  added,  in  answer  to  a 
further  question,  "  I  consider  he  is  a  suf- 
ficiently good  man  to  go  with  us."  Mr. 
Hadow  was  admitted  without  any  further 
question,  and  we  then  went  into  the  mat- 
ter of  guides.  Hudson  thought  that  Croz 
and  old  Peter  would  be  sufficient.  The 
question  was  referred  to  the  men  them- 
selves, and  they  made  no  objection. 

So  Croz  and  I  became  comrades  once 
more,  and  as  I  threw  myself  on  my  bed 
and  tried  to  go  to  sleep,  I  wondered  at 
the  strange  series  of  chances  which  had 
first  separated  us  and  then  brought  us 
together  again.  I  thought  of  the  mis- 
take through  which  he  had  accepted 

the  engagement  to    Mr.  B ;    of  his 

unwillingness  to  adopt  my  route  ;  of  his 
recommendation  to  transfer  our  energies 
to  the  chain  of  Mont  Blanc ;  of  the  re- 
tirement of  Aimer  and  Biener;  of  the 
desertion  of  Carrel ;  of  the  arrival  of 
Lord  Francis  Douglas ;  and  lastly  of 
our  accidental  meeting  at  Zermatt ;  and 
as  I  pondered  over  these  things  I  could 
not  help  asking,  "What  next  ?"  If  any 
one  of  the  links  of  this  fatal  chain  of  cir- 
cumstances had  been  omitted,  what  a 
different  story  I  should  have  to  tell ! 


CHAPTER   XXI. 
THE   ASCENT    OF   THE   MATTERHORN. 

WE  started  from  Zermatt  on  the  I3th 
of  July  at  half-past  five,  on  a  brilliant 
and  perfectly  cloudless  morning.  We 
were  eight  in  'number — Croz,  old  Peter 
and  his  two  sons,*  Lord  Francis  Doug- 

*  The  two  young  Taugwalders  were  taken  as  por- 
ters by  desire  of  their  father,  and  carried  provisions 
amply  sufficient  for  three  days,  in  case  the  ascent 
should  prove  more  troublesome  than  we  anticipated. 


las,  Hadow,  Hudson f  and  I.  To  en- 
sure steady  motion,  one  tourist  and  one 
native  walked  together.  The  youngest 
Taugwalder  fell  to  my  share,  and  the 
lad  marched  well,  proud  to  be  on  the 
expedition  and  happy  to  show  his  pow- 
ers. The  wine-bags  also  fell  to  my  lot 
to  carry,  and  throughout  the  day,  after 

f  I  remember  speaking  about  pedestrianism  to  a 
well-known  mountaineer  some  years  ago,  and  ven- 
turing to  remark  that  a  man  who  averaged  thirty 
miles  a  day  might  be  considered  a  good  walker.  "  A 
fair  walker,"  he  said — "  a  fair  walker."  "What, 
then,  would  you  consider  good  walking?"  "Well," 
he  replied,  "  I  will  tell  you.  Some  time  back  a  friend 
and  I  agreed  to  go  to  Switzerland,  but  a  short  time 
afterward  he  wrote  to  say  he  ought  to  let  me  know 
that  a  young  and  delicate  lad  was  going  with  him  who 
would  not  be  equal  to  great  things— in  fact,  he  would 
not  be  able  to  do  more  than  fifty  miles  a  day  !" 
"  What  became  of  the  young  and  delicate  lad?"  "  He 
lives."  "  And  who  was  your  extraordinary  friend?" 
"  Charles  Hudson."  I  have  every  reason  to  believe 
that  the  gentlemen  referred  to  were  equal  to  walking 
more  than  fifty  miles  a  day,  but  they  were  exception- 
al, not  goad  pedestrians. 

Charles  Hudson,  vicar  of  Skillington  in  Lincoln- 
shire, was  considered  by  the  mountaineering  fraternity 
to  be  the  best  amateur  of  his  time.  He  was  the  or- 
ganizer and  leader  of  the  party  of  Englishmen  who 
ascended  Mont  Blanc  by  the  Aiguille  du  Gouter,  and 
descended  by  the  Grands  Mulcts  route,  without 
guides,  in  1855.  His  long  practice  made  him  sure- 
footed, and  in  that  respect  he  was  not  greatly  inferior 
to  a  born  mountaineer.  I  remember  him  as  a  well- 
made  man  of  middle  height  and  age,  neither  stout  nor 
thin,  with  face  pleasant  though  grave,  and  with  quiet, 
unassuming  manners.  Although  an  athletic  man,  he 
would  have  been  overlooked  in  a  crowd  ;  and  although 
he  had  done  the  greatest  mountaineering  feats  which 
have  been  done,  he  was  the  last  man  to  speak  of  his 
own  doings.  His  friend,  Mr.  Hadow,  was  a  young 
man  of  nineteen,  who  had  the  looks  and  manners  of  a 
greater  age.  He  was  a  rapid  walker,  but  1865  was 
his  first  season  in  the  Alps.  Lord  Francis  Douglas 
was  about  the  same  age  as  Mr.  Hadow.  He  had  had 
the  advantage  of  several  seasons  in  the  Alps.  He 
was  nimble  as  a  deer,  and  was  becoming  an  expert 
mountaineer.  Just  before  our  meeting  he  had  ascend- 
ed the  Ober  Gabelhorn  (with  old  Peter  and  Joseph 
Viennin),  and  this  gave  me  a  high  opinion  of  his 
powers,  for  I  had  examined  that  mountain  all  round 
a  few  weeks  before,  and  had  declined  its  ascent  on 
account  of  its  apparent  difficulty. 

My  personal  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Hudson  was 
very  slight ;  still,  I  should  have  been  content  to  have 
placed  myself  under  his  orders  if  he  had  chosen  to 
claim  the  position  to  which  he  was  entitled.  Those 
who  knew  him  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that,  so 
far  from  doing  this,  he  lost  no  opportunity  in  consult- 
ing the  wishes  and  opinions  of  those  around  him.  We 
deliberated  together  whenever  there  was  occasion,  and 
our  authority  was  recognized  by  the  others.  What- 
ever responsibility  there  was  devorved  upon  us.  I 
recollect  with  satisfaction  that  there  was  no  difference 
of  opinion  between  us  as  to  what  should  be  done,  and 
that  the  most  perfect  harmony  existed  between  all  of 
us  so  long  as  we  were  together. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


each  drink,  I  replenished  them  secretly 
with  water,  so  that  at  the  next  halt  they 
were  found  fuller  than  before !  This 
was  considered  a  good  omen,  and  little 
short  of  miraculous. 

On  the  first  day  we  did  not  intend  to 
ascend  to  any  great  height,  and  we 
mounted,  accordingly,  very  leisurely, 
picked  up  the  things  which  were  left  in 
the  chapel  at  the  Schwarzsee  at  8.20, 
and  proceeded  thence  along  the  ridge 
connecting  the  Hornli  with  the  Matter- 
horn.  At  half -past  eleven  we  arrived 
at  the  base  of  the  actual  peak,  then  quit- 
ted the  ridge  and  clambered  round  some 
ledges  on  to  the  eastern  face..  We  were 
now  fairly  upon  the  mountain,  and  were 
astonished  to  find  that  places  which  from 
the  Riffel,  or  even  from  the  Furggen- 
gletscher,  looked  entirely  impracticable, 
were  so  easy  that  we  could  run  aboi{t. 

Before  twelve  o'clock  we  had  found  a 
good  position  for  the  tent,  at  a  height  of 
eleven  thousand  feet.*  Croz  and  young 
Peter  went  on  to  see  what  was  above,  in 
order  to  save  time  on  the  following  morn- 
ing. They  cut  across  the  heads  of  the 
snow-slopes  which  descended  toward 
the  Furggengletscher,  and  disappeared 
round  a  corner,  but  shortly  afterward  we 
saw  them  high  up  on  the  face,  moving 
quickly.  We  others  made  a  solid  plat- 
form for  the  tent  in  a  well-protected  spot, 
and  then  watched  eagerly  for  the  return 
of  the  men.  The  stones  which  they  up- 
set told  that  they  were  very  high,  and 
we  supposed  that  the  way  must  be  easy. 
At  length,  just  before  3  P.  M.,  we  saw 
them  coming  down,  evidently  much  ex- 
cited. "What  are  they  saying,  Peter?" 
"Gentlemen,  they  say  it  is  no  good." 
But  when  they  came  near  we  heard  a 
different  story  :  "  Nothing  but  what  was 
good — not  a  difficulty,  not  a  single  diffi- 
culty !  We  could  have  gone  to  the  sum- 
mit and  returned  to-day  easily  !" 

We  passed  the  remaining  hours  of 
daylight — some  basking  in  the  sunshine, 
some  sketching  or  collecting — and  when 

*  Thus  far  the  guides  did  not  once  go  to  the  front. 
Hudson  or  I  led,  and  when  any  cutting  was  required 
we  did  it  ourselves.  This  was  done  to  spare  the 
guides,  and  to  show  them  that  we  were  thoroughly  in 
earnest.  The  spot  at  which  we  camped  was  just  four 
hours'  walking  from  Zermatt. 


the  sun  went  down,  giving,  as  it  depart- 
ed, a  glorious  promise  for  the  morrow, 
we  returned  to  the  tent  to  arrange  for 
the  night.  Hudson  made  tea,  I  coffee, 
and  we  then  retired  each  one  to  his 
blanket  -  bag,  the  Taugwalders,  Lord 
Francis  Douglas  and  myself  occupying 
the  tent,  the  others  remaining,  by  prefer- 
ence, outside.  Long  after  dusk  the  cliffs 
'  above  echoed  with  our  laughter  and  with 
;  the  songs  of  the  guides,  for  we  were  hap- 
py that  night  in  camp,  and  feared  no 
evil. 

We  assembled  together  outside  the 
tent  before  dawn  on  the  morning  of  the 
1 4th,  and  started  directly  it  was  light 
enough  to  move.  Young  Peter  came  on 
with  us  as  a  guide,  and  his  brother  re- 
turned to  Zermatt.  We  followed  the 
route  which  had  been  taken  on  the  pre- 
vious day,  and  in  a  few  minutes  turned 
the  rib  which  had  intercepted  the  view 
of  the  eastern  face  from  our  tent  plat- 
form. The  whole  of  this  great  slope 
was  now  revealed,  rising  for  three  thou- 
sand feet  like  a  huge  natural  staircase. 
Some  parts  were  more  and  others  were 
less  easy,  but  we  were  not  once  brought 
to  a  halt  by  any  serious  impediment,  for 
when  an  obstruction  was  met  in  front  it 
could  always  be  turned  to  the  right  or  to 
the  left.  For  the  greater  part  of  the  way 
there  was  indeed  no  occasion  for  the 
rope,  and  sometimes  Hudson  led,  some- 
times myself.  At  6.20  we  had  attained 
a  height  of  twelve  thousand  eight  hun- 
dred feet,  and  halted  for  half  an  hour  : 
we  then  continued  the  ascent  without  a 
break  until  9.55,  when  we  stopped  for 
fifty  minutes  at  a  height  of  fourteen 
thousand  feet.  Twice  we  struck  the 
north-eastern  ridge,  and  followed  it  for 
some  little  distance — to  no  advantage, 
for  it  was  usually  more  rotten  and  steep, 
and  always  more  difficult,  than  the  face. 
Still,  we  kept  near  to  it,  lest  stones  per- 
chance might  fall. 

We  had  now  arrived  at  the  foot  of  that 
part  which,  from  the  Riffelberg  or  from 
Zermatt,  seems  perpendicular  or  over- 
hanging, and  could  no  longer  continue 
upon  the  eastern  side.  For  a  little  dis- 
tance we  ascended  by  snow  upon  the 
arete  —  that  is,  the  ridge  —  descending 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  iS6o-'69. 


toward  Zermatt,  and  then  by  common 
consent  turned  over  to  the  right,  or  to  the 
northern  side.  Before  doing  so  we  made 
a  change  in  the  order  of  ascent.  Croz 
went  first,  I  followed,  Hudson  came  third : 
Hadow  and  old  Peter  were  last.  "Now," 
said  Croz  as  he  led  off — "now  for  some- 
thing altogether  different."  The  work 
became  difficult,  and  required  caution. 
In  some  places  there  was  little  to  hold, 
and  it  was  desirable  that  those  should 
be  in  front  who  were  least  likely  to  slip. 
The  general  slope  of  the  mountain  at 
this  part  was  less  than  forty  degrees,  and 
snow  had  accumulated  in,  and  had  filled 
up,  the  interstices  of  the  rock-face,  leav- 
ing only  occasional  fragments  projecting 
here  and  there.  These  were  at  times 
covered  with  a  thin  film  of  ice,  produced 
from  the  melting  and  refreezing  of  the 
snow.  It  was  the  counterpart,  on  a 
small  scale,  of  the  upper  seven  hundred 
feet  of  the  Pointe  des  Ecrins  ;  only  there 
was  this  material  difference — the  face  of 
the  Ecrins  was  about,  or  exceeded,  an 
angle  of  fifty  degrees,  and  the  Matter- 
horn  face  was  less  than  forty  degrees. 
It  was  a  place  over  which  any  fair  moun- 
taineer might  pass  in  safety,  and  Mr. 
Hudson  ascended  this  part,  and,  as  far 
as  I  know,  the  entire  mountain,  without 
having  the  slightest  assistance  rendered 
to  him  upon  any  occasion.  Sometimes, 
after  I  had  taken  a  hand  from  Croz  -or 
received  a  pull,  I  turned  to  offer  the 
same  to  Hudson,  but  he  invariably  de- 
clined, saying  it  was  not  necessary.  Mr. 
Hadow,  however,  was  not  accustomed 
to  this  kind  of  work,  and  required  con- 
tinual assistance.  It  is  only  fair  to  say 
that  the  difficulty  which  he  found  at  this 
part  arose  simply  and  entirely  from  want 
of  experience. 

This  solitary  difficult  part  was  of  no 
great  extent.  We  bore  away  over  it  at 
first  nearly  horizontally,  for  a  distance 
of  about  four  hundred  feet,  then  ascend- 
ed directly  toward  the  summit  for  about 
sixty  feet,  and  then  doubled  back  to  the 
ridge  which  descends  toward  Zermatt. 
A  long  stride  round  a  rather  awkward 
corner  brought  us  to  snow  once  more. 
The  last  doubt  vanished  !  The  Matter- 
horn  was  ours !  Nothing  but  two  hun- 


dred feet  of  easy  snow  remained  to  be 
surmounted ! 

You  must  now  carry  your  thoughts 
back  to  the  seven  Italians  who  started 
from  Breuil  on  the  iithof  July.  Four 
days  had  passed  since  their  departure, 
and  we  were  tormented  with  anxiety  lest 
they  should  arrive  on  the  top  before  us. 
All  the  way  up  we  had  talked  of  them, 
and  many  false  alarms  of  "  men  on  the 
summit"  had  been  raised.  The  higher 
we  rose  the  more  intense  became  the  ex- 
citement. What  if  we  should  be  beaten 
at  the  last  moment  ?  The  slope  eased 
off,  at  length  we  could  be  detached,  and 
Croz  and  I,  dashing  away,  ran  a  neck- 
and-neck  race  which  ended  in  a  dead 
heat.  At  1.40  P.  M.  the  world  was  at 
our  feet  and  the  Matterhorn  was  con- 
quered !  Hurrah  !  Not  a  footstep  could 
be  seen. 

It  was  not  yet  certain  that  we  had  not 
been  beaten.  The  summit  of  the  Mat- 
terhorn was  formed  of  a  rudely  level 
ridge,  about  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
long,*  and  the  Italians  might  have  been 
at  its  farther  extremity.  I  hastened  to 
the  southern  end,  scanning  the  snow 
right  and  left  eagerly.  Hurrah  again  ! 
it  was  untrodden.  "Where  were  the 
men?''  I  peered  over  the  cliff,  half 
doubting,  half  expectant.  I  saw  them 
immediately,  mere  dots  on  the  ridge,  at 
an  immense  distance  below.  Up  went 
my  arms  and  my  hat.  "Croz!  Croz! 
come  here!"  "Where  are  they,  mon- 
sieur?" "There — don't  you  see  them 
down  there  ?"  "  Ah  !  the  coquins  !  they 
are  low  down."  "  Croz,  we  must  make 
those  fellows  hear  us."  We  yelled  until 
we  were  hoarse.  The  Italians  seemed 
to  regard  us — we  could  not  be  certain. 
"  Croz,  we  must  make  them  hear  us — 
they  shall  hear  us  !"  I  seized  a  block 
of  rock  and  hurled  it  down,  and  called 
upon  my  companion,  in  the  name  of 

*  The  highest  points  are  toward  the  two  ends.  In 
1865  the  northern  end  was  slightly  higher  than  the 
southern  one.  In  bygone  years  Carrel  and  I  often 
suggested  to  each  other  that  we  might  one  day  arrive 
upon  the  top,  and  find  ourselves  cut  off  from  the  very 
highest  point  by  a  notch  in  the  summit-ridge  which  is 
seen  from  the  Theodule  and  from  Breuil.  This  notch 
is  very  conspicuous  from  below,  but  wnen  one  is  ac- 
tually upon  the  summit  it  is  hardly  noticed,  and  it 
can  be  passed  without  the  least  difficulty. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


friendship,  to  do  the  same.  We  drove 
our  sticks  in  and  prized  away  the  crags, 
and  soon  a  torrent  of  stones  poured 
down  the  cliffs.  There  was  no  mistake 
about  it  this  time.  The  Italians  turned 
and  fled.* 

Still,  I  would  that  the  leader  of  that 
party  could  have  stood  with  us  at  that 
moment,  for  our  victorious  shouts  con- 
veyed to  him  the  disappointment  of  the 
ambition  of  a  lifetime,  He  was  the  man, 


CROX  !    COME    HEKE  !" 


of  all  those  who  attempted  the  ascent  of 
the  Matterhorn,  who  most  deserved  to 
be  the  first  upon  its  summit.  He  was 
the  first  to  doubt  its  inaccessibility,  and 
he  was  the  only  man  who  persisted  in 
believing  that  its  ascent  would  be  ac- 
complished. It  was  the  aim  of  his  life 
to  make  the  ascent  from  the  side  of  Italy 

*  I  have  learned  since  from  J.-A.  Carrel  that  they 
heard  our  first  cries.  They  were  then  upon  the  south- 
west ridge,  close  to  the  "  Cravate,"  and  twelve  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  below  us.  or,  as  the  crow  flies,  at 
a  distance  of  about  one-third  of  a  mile. 


for  the  honor  of  his  native  valley.  For 
a  time  he  had  the  game  in  his  hands  : 
he  played  it  as  he  thought  best,  but  he 
made  a  false  move,  and  lost  it.  Times 
have  changed  with  Carrel.  His  suprem- 
acy is  questioned  in  the  Val  Tournanche ; 
new  men  have  arisen,  and  he  is  no  long- 
er recognized  as  the  chasseur  above  all 
others  ;  but  so  long  as  he  remains  the 
man  that  he  is  to-day  it  will  not  be  easy 
to  find  his  superior. 

The  others  had  arrived, 
so  we  went  back  to  the 
northern  end  of  the  ridge. 
Croz  now  took  the  tent- 
pole  f  and  planted  it  in 
the  highest  snow.  "Yes," 
we  said,  "there  is  the  flag- 
staff, but  where  is  the  flag  ?" 
"Here  it  is,"  he  answered, 
pulling  off  his  blouse  and 
fixing  it  to  the  stick.  It 
made  a  poor  flag,  and 
there  was  no  wind  to  float 
it  out,  yet  it  was  seen  all 
around.  They  saw  it  at 
Zermatt,  at  the  Riffel,  in 
the  Val  Tournanche.  At 
Br'euil  the  watchers  cried, 
"Victory  is  ours!"  They 
raised  "bravos"  for  Car- 
rel and  "vivas"  for  Italy, 
and  hastened  to  put  them- 
selves en  fete.  On  the 
morrow  they  were  unde- 
ceived. All  was  changed : 
the  explorers  returned  sad 
!ff^'  #r  — cast  down  —  dishearten- 

ed— confounded — gloomy. 
"It  is  true,"  said  the  men. 
"We  saw  them  ourselves 
— they  hurled  stones  at  us  ! 
The  old  traditions  are  true — there  are 
spirits  on  the  top  of  the  Matterhorn  !"  \ 

f  At  our  departure  the  men  were  confident  that  the 
ascent  would  be  made,  and  took  one  of  the  poles  out 
of  the  tent.  I  protested  that  it  was  tempting  Prov- 
idence :  they  took  the  pole,  nevertheless. 

%  Signer  Giordano  was  naturally  disappointed  at 
the  result,  and  wished  the  men  to  start  again.  They 
all  refused  to  do  so,  ivith  ike  exception  of  Jean- A  n- 
toine.  Upon  the  :6th  of  July  he  set  out  again  with 
three  others,  and  upon  the  i;th  gained  the  summit  by 
passing  (at  first)  up  the  south-west  ridge,  and  (after- 
ward) by  turning  over  to  the  Z'Mutt,  or  north-west- 
ern side.  On  the  i8th  he  returned  to  Breuil. 

Whilst  we  were  upon  the  southern  end  of  the  sum- 


154 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


We  returned  to  the  southern  end  of 
the  ridge  to  build  a  cairn,  and  then  paid 


homage  to  the  view.*     The  day  was  one 
of  those  superlatively  calm  and  clear 


THE    SUMMIT    OF   THE    MATTERHORN   IN    1865    (NORTHERN     END). 


ones  which  usually  precede  bad  weather. 
The  atmosphere  was  perfectly  still  and 
free  from  all  clouds  or  vapors.  Moun- 
tains fifty  —  nay,  a  hundred  —  miles  off 
looked  sharp  and  near.  All  their  de- 
tails— ridge  and  crag,  snow  and  glacier 

mit-ridge  we  paid  some  attention  to  the  portion  of  the 
mountain  which  intervened  between  ourselves  and  the 
Italian  guides.  It  seemed  as  if  there  would  not  be  the 
least  chance  for  them  if  they  should  attempt  to  storm 
the  final  peak  directly  from  the  end  of  the  "  shoulder." 
In  that  direction  cliffs  fell  sheer  down  from  the  sum- 
mit, and  we  were  unable  to  see  beyond  a  certain  dis- 
tance. There  remained  the  route  about  which  Carrel 
and  I  had  often  talked — namely,  to  ascend  directly  at 
first  from  the  end  of  the  "shoulder,"  and  afterward 
to  swerve  to  the  left  (that  is,  to  the  Z'Mutt  side),  and 
to  complete  the  ascent  from  the  north-west.  When 
we  were  upon  the  summit  we  laughed  at  this  idea. 
The  part  of  the  mountain  that  I  have  described  upon 
page  619  was  not  easy,  although  its  inclination  was 
moderate.  If  that  slope  were  made  only  ten  degrees 
steeper  its  difficulty  would  be  enormously  increased. 
To  double  its  inclination  would  be  to  make  it  imprac- 
ticable. The  slope  at  the  southern  end  of  the  sum- 
mit-ridge, falling  toward  the  north-west,  was  much 
steeper  than  that  over  which  we  passed,  and  we  ridi- 
culed the  idea  that  any  person  should  attempt  to  as- 


—  stood  out  with  faultless  definition. 
Pleasant  thoughts  of  happy  days  in  by- 
gone years  came  up  unbidden  as  we 
recognized  the  old,  familiar  forms.  All 
were  revealed — not  one  of  the  principal 
peaks  of  the  Alps  was  hidden. f  I  see 
them  clearly  now  —  the  great  inner  cir 

cend  in  that  direction  when  the  northern  route  was  so 
easy.  Nevertheless,  the  summit  was  reached  by  that 
route  by  the  undaunted  Carrel.  From  knowing  the 
final  slope  over  which  he  passed,  and  from  the  ac- 
count of  Mr.  F.  C.  Grove — who  is  the  only  traveler 
by  whom  it  has  been  traversed — I  do  not  hesitate  to 
term  the  ascent  of  Carrel  and  Bich  in  1865  the  most 
desperate  piece  of  mountain-scrambling  upon  record. 
In  1869  I  asked  Carre)  if  he  had  ever  done  anything 
more  difficult.  His  reply  was,  "  Man  cannot  do  any- 
thing much  more  difficult  than  that." 

*  The  summit-ridge  was  much  shattered,  although 
not  so  extensively  as  the  south-west  and  north-east 
ridges.  The  highest  rock  in  1865  was  a  block  of 
mica-schist,  and  the  fragment  I  broke  off  it  not  only 
possesses  in  a  remarkable  degree  the  character  of  the 
peak,  but  mimics  in  an  astonishing  manner  the  details 
of  its  form.  (See  illustration  on  page  622.) 

f  It  is  most  unusual  to  see  the  southern  half  of  the 
panorama  unclouded.  A  hundred  ascents  may  be 
made  before  this  will  be  the  case  again. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


155 


cles  of  giants,  backed  by  the  ranges, 
chains  and  massifs.  First  came  the 
Dent  Blanche,  hoary  and  grand ;  the 
Gabelhorn  and  pointed  Rothhorn,  and 
then  the  peerless  Weisshorn  ;  the  tower- 
ing Mischabelhorner,  flanked  by  the 
Allaleinhorn,  Strahlhorn  and  Rimpfisch- 
horn  ;  then  Monte  Rosa — with  its  many 
Spitzes — the  Lyskamm  and  the  Breit- 
horn.  Behind  were  the  Bernese  Ober- 
land,  governed  by  the  Finsteraarhorn, 
the  Simplon  and  St.  Gothard  groups,  the 
Disgrazia  and  the  Orteler.  Toward  the 


sunny  plains  and  frigid  plateaux.  There 
were  the  most  rugged  forms  and  the 
most  graceful  outlines — bold,  perpen- 
dicular cliffs  and  gentle,  undulating 
slopes ;  rocky  mountains  and  snowy 
mountains,  sombre  and  solemn  or  glit- 
tering and  white,  with  walls,  turrets, 
pinnacles,  pyramids,  domes,  cones  and 
spires  !  There  was  every  combination 
that  the  world  can  give,  and  every  con- 
trast that  the  heart  could  desire. 

We  remained  on  the  summit  for  one 
hour — 

One  crowded  hour  of  glorious  life. 

It  passed  away  too  quickly, 
and  we  began  to  prepare  for 
the  descent. 


THE    ACTUAL   SUMMIT    OF    THE    MATTEKJi  OKN . 

south  we  looked  down  to  Chivasso  on 
the  plain  of  Piedmont,  and  far  beyond. 
The  Viso — one  hundred  miles  away — 
seemed  close  upon  us ;  the  Maritime 
Alps — one  hundred  and  thirty  miles  dis- 
tant— were  free  from  haze.  Then  came 
my  first  love — the  Pelvoux  ;  the  Ecrins 
and  the  Meije  ;  the  clusters  of  the  Gra- 
ians ;  and  lastly,  in  the  west,  gorgeous 
in  the  full  sunlight,  rose  the  monarch  of 
all — Mont  Blanc.  Ten  thousand  feet  be- 
neath us  were  the  green  fields  of  Zermatt, 
dotted  with  chalets,  from  which  blue 
smoke  rose  lazily.  Eight  thousand  feet 
below,  on  the  other  side,  were  the  pas- 
tures of  Breuil.  There  were  forests  black 
and  gloomy,  and  meadows  bright  and 
lively  ;  bounding  waterfalls  and  tranquil 
lakes  ;  fertile  lands  and  savage  wastes  ; 


CHAPTER   XXII. 
DESCENT    OF   THE    MATTERHORN. 

HUDSON  and  I  again  consult- 
ed as  to  the  best  and  safest  ar- 
rangement of  the  party.  We 
agreed  that  it  would  be  best  for 
Croz  to  go  first,*  and  Hadow 
second  ;  Hudson,  who  was  al- 
most equal  to  a  guide  in  sure- 
ness  of  foot,  wished  to  be  third  ; 
Lord  F.  Douglas  was  placed 
next,  and  old  Peter,  the  strong- 
est of  the  remainder,  after  him. 
I  suggested  to  Hudson  that  we 
should  attach  a  rope  to  the  rocks  on  our 
arrival  at  the  difficult  bit,  and  hold  it  as 
we  descended,  as  an  additional  protec- 
tion. He  approved  the  idea,  but  it  was 
not  definitely  settled  that  it  should  be 
done.  The  party  was  being  arranged 
in  the  above  order  whilst  I  was  sketch- 
ing the  summit,  and  they  had  finished, 
and  were  waiting  for  me  to  be  tied  in 
line,  when  some  one  remembered  that 
our  names  had  not  been  left  in  a  bottle. 
They  requested  me  to  write  them  down, 
and  moved  off  while  it  was  being  done. 
A  few  minutes  afterward  I  tied  my- 
self to  young  Peter,  ran  down  after  the 
others,  and  caught  them  just  as  they 
were  commencing  the  descent  of  the  dif- 

*  If  the  members  of  the  party  had  been  more  equally 
efficient,  Croz  would  have  been  placed  last. 


i56 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


ficult  part.*  Great  care  was  being  taken. 
Only  one  man  was  moving  at  a  time  : 
when  he  was  firmly  planted,  the  next 
advanced,  and  so  on.  They  had  not, 
however,  attached  the  additional  rope  to 
rocks,  and  nothing  was  said  about  it. 
The  suggestion  was  not  made  for  my 
own  sake,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  it  even 
occurred  to  me  again.  For  some  little 
distance  we  two  followed  the  others,  de- 
tached from  them,  and  should  have  con- 
tinued so  had  not  Lord  F.  Douglas  ask- 
ed me,  about  3  P.  M.,  to  tie  on  to  old 
Peter,  as  he  feared,  he  said,  that  Taug- 
walder  would  not  be  able  to  hold  his 
ground  if  a  slip  occurred. 

A  few  minutes  later  a  sharp-eyed  lad 
ran  into  the  Monte  Rosa  hotel  to  Seller, 
saying  that  he  had  seen  an  avalanche 
fall  from  the  summit  of  the  Matterhorn 
on  to  the  Matterhorngletscher.  The  boy 
was  reproved  for  telling  idle  stories  :  he 
was  right,  nevertheless,  and  this  was 
what  he  saw. 

Michel  Croz  had  laid  aside  his  axe, 
and  in  order  to  give  Mr.  Hadow  greater 
security  was  absolutely  taking  hold  of 
his  legs  and  putting  his  feet,  one  by  one, 
into  their  proper  positions. f  As  far  as 
I  know,  no  one  was  actually  descending. 
I  cannot  speak  with  certainty,  because 
the  two  leading  men  were  partially  hid- 
den from  my  sight  by  an  intervening 
mass  of  rock,  but  it  is  my  belief,  from 
the  movements  of  their  shoulders,  that 
Croz,  having  done  as  I  have  said,  was 
in  the  act  of  turning  round  to  go  down 
a  step  or  two  himself:  at  this  moment 
Mr.  Hadow  slipped,  fell  against  him  and 
knocked  him  over.  I  heard  one  startled 
exclamation  from  Croz,  then  saw  him 
and  Mr.  Hadow  flying  downward :  in 
another  moment  Hudson  was  dragged 
from  his  steps,  and  Lord  F.  Douglas  im- 
mediately after  him.J  All  this  was  the 

*  Described  upon  p.  619. 

f  Not  at  all  an  unusual  proceeding,  even  between 
born  mountaineers.  I  wish  to  convey  the  impression 
that  Croz  was  using  all  pains,  rather  than  to  indicate 
extreme  inability  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Hadow. 

J  At  the  moment  of  the  accident,  Croz,  Hadow  and 
Hudson  were  all  close  together.  Between  Hudson 
and  Lord  F.  Douglas  the  rope  was  all  but  taut,  and 
the  same  between  all  the  others  who  were  above. 
Cro7  was  standing  by  the  side  of  a  rock  which  afford- 


work  of  a  moment.  Immediately  we 
heard  Croz's  exclamation,  old  Peter  and 
I  planted  ourselves  as  firmly  as  the  rocks 
would  permit :  \  the  rope  was  taut  be- 
tween us,  and  the  jerk  came  on  us  both 
as  on  one  man.  We  held,  but  the  rope 
broke  midway  between  Taugwalder  and 
Lord  Francis  Douglas.  For  a  few  sec- 
onds we  saw  our  unfortunate  compan- 
ions sliding  downward  on  their  backs,  and 
spreading  out  their  hands,  endeavoring 
to  save  themselves.  They  passed  from 
our  sight  uninjured,  disappeared  one  by 
one,  and  fell  from  precipice  to  precipice 
on  to  the  Matterhorngletscher  below,  a 
distance  of  nearly  four  thousand  feet  in 
height.  From  the  moment  the  rope  broke 
it  was  impossible  to  help  them. 

So  perished  our  comrades  !  For  the 
space  of  half  an  hour  we  remained  on 
the  spot  without  moving  a  single  step. 
The  two  men,  paralyzed  by  terror,  cried 
like  infants,  and  trembled  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  threaten  us  with  the  fate 
of  the  others.  Old  Peter  rent  the  air 
with  exclamations  of  "  Chamounix  ! — oh, 
what  will  Chamounix  say  ?"  He  meant, 
Who  would  believe  that  Croz  could  fall  ? 


ed  good  hold,  and  if  he  had  been  aware  or  had  sus- 
pected that  anything  was  about  to  occur,  he  might 
and  would  have  gripped  it,  and  would  have  prevented 
any  mischief.  He  was  taken  totally  by  surprise.  Mr. 
Hadow  slipped  off  his  feet  on  to  his  back,  his  feet  struck 
Croz  in  the  small  of  the  back  and  knocked  him  right 
over,  head  first.  Croz's  axe  was  out  of  his  reach,  and 
without  it  he  managed  to  get  his  head  uppermost  be- 
fore he  disappeared  from  our  sight.  If  it  had  been 
in  his  hand  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  would  have  stop- 
ped himself  and  Mr.  Hadow. 

Mr.  Hadow,  at  the  moment  of  the  slip,  was  not  oc- 
cupying a  bad  position.  He  could  have  moved  either 
up  or  down,  and  could  touch  with  his  hand  the  rock 
of  which  I  have  spoken.  Hudson  was  not  so  well 
placed,  but  he  had  liberty  of  motion.  The  rope  was 
not  taut  from  him  to  Hadow,  and  the  two  men  fell  ten 
or  twelve  feet  before  the  jerk  came  upon  him.  Lord 
F.  Douglas  was  not  favorably  placed,  and  could 
move  neither  up  nor  down.  Old  Peter  was  firmly 
planted,  and  stood  just  beneath  a  large  rock  which  he 
hugged  with  both  arms.  I  enter  into  these  details  to 
make  it  more  apparent  that  the  position  occupied  by 
the  party  at  the  moment  of  the  accident  was  not  by 
any  means  excessively  trying.  We  were  compelled 
to  pass  over  the  exact  spot  where  the  slip  occurred, 
and  we  found — even  with  shaken  nerves— that  it  was 
not  a  difficult  place  to  pass.  I  have  described  the 
slope  generally  as  difficult,  and  it  is  so  undoubtedly 
to  most  persons,  but  it  must  be  distinctly  understood 
that  Mr.  Hadow  slipped  at  an  easy  part. 

£  Or,  more  correctly,  we  held  on  as  tightly  as  pos- 
sible. There  was  no  time  to  change  our  position. 


FOG-BOW  SEEN  FROM  THE  MATTERHORN  ON  JULY  14,  1865, 

"THE   TAUGWALDERS   THOUGHT   THAT   IT   HAD   SOME   CONNECTION    WITH    THE    ACCIDENT.' 


Page  157. 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   J^HE   ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


J57 


The  young  man  did  nothing  but  scream 
or  sob,  "We  are  lost!  we  are  lost!" 
Fixed  between  the  two,  I  could  move 
neither  up  nor  down.  I  begged  young 
Peter  to  descend,  but  he  dared  not.  Un- 
less he  did,  we  could  not  advance.  Old 
Peter  became  alive  to  the  danger,  and 


ROPE   BROKEN   ON   THE    MATTHKHORN. 

swelled  the  cry,  "We  are  lost!  we  are 
lost !"  The  father's  fear  was  natural — 
he  trembled  for  his  son  ;  the  young  man's 
fear  was  cowardly— he  thought  of  self 
alone.  At  last  old  Peter  summoned  up 
courage,  and  changed  his  position  to  a 
rock  to  which  he  could  fix  the  rope  :  the 
young  man  then  descended,  and  we  all 
stood  together.  Immediately  we  did  so, 
I  asked  for  the  rope  which  had  given 
way,  and  found,  to  my  surprise — indeed, 
to  my  horror — that  it  was  the  weakest  of 
the  three  ropes.  It  was  not  brought,  and 
should  not  have  been  employed,  for  the 
purpose  for  which  it  was  used.  It  was 
old  rope,  and,  compared  with  the  others, 
was  feeble.  It  was  intended  as  a  reserve, 
in  case  we  had  to  leave  much  rope  be- 
hind attached  to  rocks.  I  saw  at  once 
that  a  serious  question  was  involved, 
and  made  them  give  me  the  end.  It  had 
broken  in  mid-air,  and  it  did  not  appear 
to  have  sustained  previous  injury. 

For  more  than  two  hours  afterward  I 


thought  almost  every  moment  that  the 
next  would  be  my  last,  for  the  Taug- 
walders,  utterly  unnerved,  were  not  only 
inca.pable  of  giving  assistance,  but  were 
in  such  a  state  that  a  slip  might  have 
been  expected  from  them  at  any  mo- 
ment. After  a  time  we  were  able  to  do 
that  which  should  have  been  done  at  first. 
and  fixed  rope  to  firm  rocks,  in  addition 
to  being  tied  together.  These  ropes  were 
cut  from  time  to  time,  and  were  left  be- 
hind.* Even  with  their  assurance  the 
men  were  afraid  to  proceed,  and  several 
times  old  Peter  turned  with  ashy  face 
and  faltering  limbs,  and  said  with  ter- 
rible emphasis,  "I  cannot!" 

About  6  P.  M.  we  arrived  at  the  snow 
upon  the  ridge  descending  toward  Zer- 
matt,  and  all  peril  was  over.  We  fre- 
quently looked,  but  in  vain,  for  traces 
of  our  unfortunate  companions  :  we  bent 
over  the  ridge  and  cried  to  them,  but  no 
sound  returned.  Convinced  at  last  that 
they  were  within  neither  sight  nor  hear- 
ing, we  ceased  from  our  useless  efforts, 
and,  too  cast  down  for  speech,  silently 
gathered  up  our  things  and  the  little 
effects  of  those  who  were  lost,  prepara- 
tory to  continuing  the  descent.  W7hen 
lo  !  a  mighty  arch  appeared,  rising  above 
the  Lyskamm  high  into  the  sky.  Pale, 
colorless  and  noiseless,  but  perfectly 
sharp  and  defined,  except  where  it  was 
lost  in  the  clouds,  this  unearthly  appari- 
tion seemed  like  a  vision  from  another 
world,  and  almost  appalled  we  watched 
with  amazement  the  gradual  develop- 
ment of  two  vast  crosses,  one  on  either 
side.  If  the  Taugwalders  had  not  been 
the  first  to  perceive  it,  I  should  have 
doubted  my  senses.  They  thought  it 
had  some  connection  with  the  accident, 
and  I,  after  a  while,  that  it  might  bear 
some  relation  to  ourselves.  But  our 
movements  had  no  effect  upon  it.  The 
spectral  forms  remained  motionless.  It 
was  a  fearful  and  wonderful  sight,  unique 
in  my  experience,  and  impressive  beyond 
description,  coming  at  such  a  moment.f 

*  These  ends,  I  believe,  are  still  attached  to  the 
rocks,  and  mark  our  line  of  asc"ent  and  descent. 

f  See  Illustration.  I  paid  very  little  attention  to 
this  remarkable  phenomenon,  and  was  glad  when  it 
disappeared,  as  it  distracted  our  attention.  Under 
ordinary  circumstances  I  should  have  fek  vexed  after- 


'58 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


I  was  ready  to  leave,  and  waiting  for 
the  others.  They  had  recovered  their 
appetites  and  the  use  of  their  tongues. 
They  spoke  in  patois,  which  I  did  not 
understand.  At  length  the  son  said  in 
French,  "Monsieur."  "Yes."  "We  are 
poor  men  ;  we  have  lost  our  Herr ;  we 
shall  not  get  paid ;  we  can  ill  afford 
this."*  "Stop!"  I  said,  interrupting  him 
-"  that  is  nonsense  :  I  shall  pay  you,  of 
course,  just  as  if  your  Herr  were  here." 
They  talked  together  in  their  patois  for 
a  short  time,  and  then  the  son  spoke 
again  :  "We  don't  wish  you  to  pay  us. 
We  wish  you  to  write  in  the  hotel-book 
at  Zermatt  and  to  your  journals  that  we 
have  not  been  paid."  "  What  nonsense 
are  you  talking  ?  I  don't  understand 
you.  What  do  you  mean  ?"  He  pro- 
ceeded :  "  Why,  next  year  there  will  be 
many  travelers  at  Zermatt,  and  we  shall 
get  more  voyageiers" 

Who  would  answer  such  a  proposition  ? 
I  made  them  no  reply  in  words, f  but  they 
knew  very  well  the  indignation  that  I  felt. 

ward  at  not  having  observed  with  greater  precision 
an  occurrence  so  rare  and  so  wonderful.  I  can  add 
very  little  about  it  to  that  which  is  said  above.  The 
sun  was  directly  at  our  backs — that  is  to  say,  the  fog- 
bow  was  opposite  to  the  sun.  The  time  was  6.30 
p.  M.  The  forms  were  at  once  tender  and  sharp,  neu- 
tral in  tone,  were  developed  gradually,  and  disappear- 
ed suddenly.  The  mists  were  light  (that  is,  not  dense), 
and  were  dissipated  in  the  course  of  che  evening. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  crosses  are  incorrect- 
ly figured  in  the  Illustration,  and  that  they  were 
probably  formed  by  the  intersection  of  other  circles  or 
ellipses,  as  shown 
in  the  annexed 
diagram.  I  think 
this  suggestion  is 
very  likely  cor- 
rect, but  I  have 
preferred  to  fol- 
low my  original 
memorandum. 

In  Parry's 
Narrative  of  an 
Attempt  to  Reach 
the  North  Pole, 
4to,  1828,  there 
is,  at  pp.  99,  100, 
an  account  of  the  occurrence  of  a  phenomenon  analo- 
gous to  the  above-mentioned  one:  "At  half-past  5 
p.  M.  we  witnessed  a  very  beautiful  natural  phenom- 
enon. A  broad  white  fog-bow  first  appeared  opposite 
to  the  sun,  as  was  very  commonly  the  case,"  etc.  I 
follow  Parry  in  using  the  term  fog-bow. 

*They  had  been  traveling  with,  and  had  been  en- 
gaged by,  Lord  F.  Douglas,  and  so  considered  him 
their  employer,  and  responsible  to  them. 

f  Nor  did  I  speak  to  them  afterward,  unless  it  wus 
absolutely  necessary,  so  long  as  we  were  together. 


They  filled  the  cup  of  bitterness  to  over- 
flowing, and  I  tore  down  the  cliff  madly 
and  recklessly,  in  a  way  that  caused 
them,  more  than  once,  to  inquire  if  I 
wished  to  kill  them.  Night  fell,  and  for 
an  hour  the  descent  was  continued  in 
the  darkness.  At  half-past  nine  a  rest- 


MONSIEUK    ALEX.    SEILER. 


ing-place  was  found,  and  upon  a  wretch- 
ed slab,  barely  large  enough  to  hold  the 
three,  we  passed  six  miserable  hours. 
At  daybreak  the  descent  was  resumed, 
and  from  the  Hornli  ridge  we  ran  down 
to  the  chalets  of  Buhl  and  on  to  Zermatt. 
Seller  met  me  at  his  door,  and  followed 
in  silence  to  my  room:  "What  is  the 
matter?"  "The  Taugwalders  and  I  have 
returned."  He  did  not  need  more,  and 
burst  into  tears,  but  lost  no  time  in  use- 
less lamentations,  and  set  to  work  to 
arouse  the  village.  Ere  long  a  score  of 
men  had  started  to  ascend  the  Hohlicht 
heights,  above  Kalbermatt  and  Z'Mutt, 
which  commanded  the  plateau  of  the 
Matterhorngletscher.  They  returned  af- 
ter six  hours,  and  reported  that  they  had 
seen  the  bodies  lying  motionless  on  the 
snow.  This  was  on  Saturday,  and  they 
proposed  that  we  should  leave  on  Sun- 
day evening,  so  as  to  arrive  upon  the 
plateau  at  daybreak  on  Monday.  Un- 
willing to  lose  the  slightest  chance,  the 
Rev.  J.  M'Cormick  and  I  resolved  to 
start  on  Sunday  morning.  The  Zermatt 
men,  threatened  with  excommunicatioo 
by  their  priests  if  they  failed  to  attend 
the  early  mass,  were  unable  to  accom- 
pany us.  To  several  of  them,  at  least, 
this  was  a  severe  trial,  and  Peter  Perm 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


159 


declared  with  tears  that  nothing  else 
would  have  prevented  him  from  joining 
in  the  search  for  his  old  comrades.  En- 
glishmen came  to  our  aid.  The  Rev.  J. 
Robertson  and  Mr.  J.  Phillpotts  offered 
themselves  and  their  guide,  Franz  An- 
dermatten  :  another  Englishman  lent  us 
Joseph  Marie  and  Alexandre  Lochmatter. 
Frederic  Payot  and  Jean  Tairraz  of  Cha- 
mounix  also  volunteered. 


THE    MANILA    ROPE.* 

We  started  at  2  A.  M.  on  Sunday,  the 
1 6th,  and  followed  the  route  that  we  had 
taken  on  the  previous  Thursday  as  far 
as  the  Hornli.  From  thence  we  went 
down  to  the  right  of  the  ridge,  and 
mounted  through  the  seracs  of  the  Mat- 
terhorngletscher.  By  8.30  we  had  got 
to  the  plateau  at  the  top  of  the  glacier, 
and  within  sight  of  the  corner  in  which 
we  knew  my  companions  must  be.  As 
we  saw  one  weather-beaten  man  after 

*  The  three  ropes  have  been  reduced  by  photogra- 
phy to  the  same  scale. 


another  raise  the  telescope,  turn  deadly 
pale  and  pass  it  on  without  a  word  to 
the  next,  we  knew  that  all  hope  was 
gone.  We  approached.  They  had  fall- 
en below  as  they  had  fallen  above — 
Croz  a  little  in  advance,  Hadow  near 
him,  and  Hudson  some  distance  behind, 
but  of  Lord  F.  Douglas  we  could  see 
nothing.!  We  left  them  where  they  fell, 
buried  in  snow  at  the  base  of  the  grand- 
est cliff  of  the  most  majestic  moun- 
tain of  the  Alps. 

All  those  who  had  fallen  had  bee;i 
tied  with  the  Manila,  or  with  the 
second  and  equally  strong  rope,  and 
consequently  there  had  been  only 
one  link  —  that  between  old  Peter 
and  Lord  F.  Douglas  —  where  the 
weaker  rope  had  been  used.  This 
had  a  very  ugly  look  for  Taugwald- 
er,  for  it  was  not  possible  to  sup- 
pose that  the  others  would  have 
sanctioned  the  employment  of  a 
rope  so  greatly  inferior  in  strength 
when  there  were  more  than  two 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  of  the  better 
qualities  still  out  of  use.J  For  the 
sake  of  the  old  guide  (who  bore  a 
good  reputation),  and  upon  all  other 
accounts,  it  was  desirable  that  this 
matter  should  be  cleared  up ;  and  af- 
ter my  examination  before  the  court 
of  inquiry  which  was  instituted  by 
the  government  was  over,  I  hand- 
ed in  a  number  of  questions  which 
were  framed  so  as  to  afford  old  Peter 
an  opportunity  of  exculpating  him- 
self from  the  grave  suspicions  which 
at  once  fell  upon  him.  The  ques- 
tions, I  was  told,  were  put  and  an- 
swered, but  the  answers,  although 
promised,  have  never  reached  me.$ 

f  A  pair  of  gloves,  a  belt  and  boot  that  had  be- 
longed to  him  were  found.  This,  somehow,  became 
publicly  known,  and  gave  rise  to  wild  notions,  which 
would  not  have  been  entertained  had  it  been  also 
known  that  the  boots  of  all  those  who  had  fallen  were 
off,  and  were  lying  upon  the  snow  near  the  bodies. 

\  I  was  one  hundred  feet  or  more  from  the  others 
whilst  they  were  being  tied  up,  and  am  unable  to 
throw  any  light  on  the  matter.  Croz  and  old  Peter  no 
doubt  tied  up  the  others. 

gThis  is  not  the  only  occasion  upon  which  M. 
Clemenz  (who  presided  over  the  inquiry)  has  failed  to 
give  up  answers  that  he  has  promised.  It  is  greatly  to 
be  regretted  that  he  does  not  feel  that  the  suppression 
of  the  truth  is  equally  against  the  interests  of  travelers 


IUO 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE   ALPS  IN  iS6o-'69. 


Meanwhile,  the  administration  sent 
strict  injunctions  to  recover  the  bodies, 
and  upon  the  i9th  of  July  twenty-one 
men  of  Zermatt  accomplished  that  sad 
and  dangerous  task.  Of  the  body  of 
Lord  Francis  Douglas  they  too  saw  noth- 
ing :  it  is  probably  still  arrested  on  the 
rocks  above.*  The  remains  of  Hudson 
and  Hadow  were  interred  upon  the  north 
side  of  the  Zermatt  church,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  reverent  crowd  of  sympathiz- 
ing friends.  The  body  of  Michel  Croz 
lies  upon  the  other  side,  under  a  simpler 
tomb,  whose  inscription  bears  honorable 
testimony  to  his  rectitude,  to  his  courage 
and  to  his  devotion. f 

and  of  the  guides.  If  the  men  are  untrustworthy,  the 
public  should  be  warned  of  the  fact,  but  if  they  are 
blameless,  why  allow  them  to  remain  under  unmerited 
suspicion? 

Old  Peter  Taugwalder  is  a  man  who  is  laboring 
under  an  unjust  accusation.  Notwithstanding  repeat- 
ed denials,  even  his  comrades  and  neighbors  at  Zer- 
matt persist  in  asserting  or  insinuating  that  he  cut  the 
rope  which  led  from  him  to  Lord  F.  Douglas.  In  re- 
gard to  this  infamous  charge,  I  say  that  he  could  not 
do  so  at  the  moment  of  the  slip,  and  that  the  end  of 
the  rope  in  my  possession  shows  that  he  did  not  do  so 
beforehand.  There  remains,  however,  the  suspicious 
fact  that  the  rope  which  broke  was  the  thinnest  and 
weakest  one  that  we  had.  It  is  suspicious,  because  it 
is  unlikely  that  any  of  the  four  men  in  front  would 
have  selected  an  old  and  weak  rope  when  there  was 
abundance  of  new  and  much  stronger  rope  to  spare  ; 
and  on  the  other  hand,  because  if  Taugwalder  thought 
that  an  accident  was  likely  to  happen,  it  was  to  his 
interest  to  have  the  weaker  rope  where  it  was  placed. 

I  should  rejoice  to  learn  that  his  answers  to  the 
questions  which  were  put  to  him  were  satisfactory. 
Not  only  was  his  act  at  the  critical  moment  wonderful 
as  a  feat  of  strength,  but  it  was  admirable  in  its  per- 
formance at  the  right  time.  I  am  told  that  he  is  now 
nearly  incapable  of  work — not  absolutely  mad,  but 
with  intellect  gone  and  almost  crazy  ;  which  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at,  whether  we  regard  him  as  a  man  who 
contemplated  a  scoundrelly  meanness,  or  as  an  in- 
jured man  suffering  under  an  unjust  accusation. 

In  respect  to  young  Peter,  it  is  not  possible  to  speak 
in  the  same  manner.  The  odious  idea  that  he  pro- 
pounded (which  I  believe  emanated  from  him)  he  has 
endeavored  to  trade  upon,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  his 
father  was  paid  (for  both)  in  the  presence  of  witnesses. 
Whatever  may  be  his  abilities  as  a  guide,  he  is  not  one 
to  whom  I  would  ever  trust  my  life  or  afford  any 
countenance. 

*  This  or  a  subsequent  party  discovered  a  sleeve. 
No  other  traces  have  been  found. 

t  At  the  instance  of  Mr.  Alfred  Wills,  a  subscrip- 
tion-list was  opened  for  the  benefit  of  the  sisters  of 
Michel  Croz,  who  had  been  partly  dependent  jpon 
his  earnings.  In  a  short  time  more  than  two  hundred 
and  eighty  pounds  were  raised.  This  was  considered 
sufficient,  and  the  list  closed.  The  proceeds  were  in- 
vested in  French  Rentes  (by  Mr.  William  Mathews), 
at  the  recommendation  of  M.  Dupui,  at  that  time 
maire  of  Chamounix. 


So  the  traditional  inaccessibility  of  the 
Matterhorn  was  vanquished,  and  was  re- 
placed by  legends  of  a  more  real  cha- 
racter. Others  will  essay  to  scale  its 
proud  cliffs,  but  to  none  will  it  be  the 


THE   SECOND    ROPE. 


mountain  that  it  was  to  its  early  ex- 
plorers. Others  may  tread  its  summit- 
snows,  but  none  will  ever  know  the  feel- 
ings of  those  who  first  gazed  upon  its 
marvelous  panorama,  and  none,  I  trust, 
will  ever  be  compelled  to  tell  of  joy  turn- 
ed into  grief,  and  of  laughter  into  mourn- 
ing. It  proved  to  be  a  stubborn  foe  ;  it 
resisted  long  and  gave  many  a  hard 
blow ;  it  was  defeated  at  last  with  an 
ease  that  none  could  have  anticipated, 
but,  like  a  relentless  enemy  conquered 
but  not  crushed,  it  took  terrible  ven- 
geance. The  time  may  come  when  the 
Matterhorn  shall  have  passed  away,  and 
nothing  save  a  heap  of  shapeless  frag- 
ments will  mark  the  spot  where  the  great 


SCRAMBLED   AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


161 


mountain  stood,  for,  atom  by  atom,  inch 
by  inch,  and  yard  by  yard,  it  yields  to 
forces  which  nothing  can  withstand. 
That  time  is  far  distant,  and  ages  hence 
generations  unborn  will  gaze  upon  its 
awful  precipices  and  wonder  at  its  unique 
form.  However  exalted  may  be  their 
ideas  and  however  exaggerated  their 
expectations,  none  will  come  to  return 
disappointed ! 

The  play  is  over,  and  the  curtain  is 
about  to  fall.  Before  we  part,  a  word 
upon  the  graver  teachings  of  the  moun- 
tains. See  yonder  height!  'Tis  far 
away — unbidden  comes  the  word  "  Im- 
possible!" "Not  so,"  says  the  moun- 
taineer. "The  way  is  long,  I  know  :  it's 
difficult — it  may  be  dangerous.  It's  pos- 
sible, I'm  sure :  I'll  seek  the  way,  take 
counsel  of  my  brother  mountaineers,  and 
find  how  they  have  gained  similar  heights 
and  learned  to  avoid  the  dangers."  He 
starts  (all  slumbering  down  below) :  the 
path  is  slippery — maybe  laborious  too. 
Caution  and  perseverance  gain  the  day 
— the  height  is  reached !  and  those  be- 
neath cry,  "  Incredible !  'tis  superhu- 
man !" 

We  who  go  mountain-scrambling  have 
constantly  set  before  us  the  superiority 
of  fixed  purpose  or  perseverance  to  brute 
force.  We  know  that  each  height,  each 
step,  must  be  gained  by  patient,  labor- 
ious toil,  and  that  wishing  cannot  take 
the  place  of  working :  we  know  the 
benefits  of  mutual  aid — that  many  a  dif- 
ficulty must  be  encountered,  and  many 
an  obstacle  must  be  grappled  with  or 
turned ;  but  we  know  that  where  there's 
a  will  there's  a  way  ;  and  we  come  back 
to  our  daily  occupations  better  fitted  to 
fight  the  battle  of  life  and  to  overcome 
the  impediments  which  obstruct  our 
paths,  strengthened  and  cheered  by  the 
recollection  of  past  labors  and  by  the 
memories  of  victories  gained  in  other 
fields. 

I  have  not  made  myself  an  advocate 
or  an  apologist  for  mountaineering,  nor 
do  I  now  intend  to  usurp  the  functions 
of  a  moralist,  but  my  task  would  have 
been  ill  performed  if  it  had  been  con- 
cluded without  one  reference  to  the 


more  serious  lessons  of  the  mountaineer. 
We  glory  in  the  physical  regeneration 
which  is  the  product  of  our  exertions; 
we  exult  over  the  grandeur  of  the  scenes 
that  are  brought  before  our  eyes,  the 
splendors  of  sunrise  and  sunset,  and  the 
beauties  of  hill,  dale,  lake,  wood  and 
waterfall ;  but  we  value  more  highly  the 
development  of  manliness,  and  the  evo- 
lution, under  combat  with  difficulties,  of 
those  noble  qualities  of  human  nature — 
courage,  patience,  endurance  and  for- 
titude. 

Some  hold  these  virtues  in  less  esti- 
mation, and  assign  base  and  contempt- 
ible motives  to  those  who  indulge  in  our 
innocent  sport. 

Be  thou  chaste  as  ice,  as  pure  as  snow,  thou  shalt  not 
escape  calumny. 

Others,  again,  who  are  not  detractors, 
find  mountaineering,  as  a  sport,  to  be 
wholly  unintelligible.  It  is  not  greatly 
to  be  wondered  at — we  are  not  all  con- 
stituted alike.  Mountaineering  is  a  pur- 
suit essentially  adapted  to  the  young  or 
vigorous,  and  not  to  the  old  or  feeble. 
To  the  latter  toil  may  be  no  pleasure, 
and  it  is  often  said  by  such  persons, 
"  This  man  is  making  a  toil  of  pleasure." 
Toil  he  must  who  goes  mountaineering, 
but  out  of  the  toil  comes  strength  (not 
merely  muscular  energy  —  more  than 
that,  an  awakening  of  all  the  faculties), 
and  from  the  strength  arises  pleasure. 
Then,  again,  it  is  often  asked,  in  tones 
which  seem  to  imply  that  'the  answer 
must  at  least  be  doubtful,  "  But  does  it 
repay  you  ?"  Well,  we  cannot  estimate 
our  enjoyment  as  you  measure  your  wine 
or  weigh  your  lead  :  it  is  real,  neverthe- 
less. If  I  could  blot  out  every  reminis- 
cence or  erase  every  memory,  still  I 
should  say  that  my  scrambles  amongst 
the  Alps  have  repaid  me,  for  they  have 
given  me  two  of  the  best  things  a  man 
can  possess — health  and  friends. 

The  recollections  of  past  pleasures 
cannot  be  effaced.  Even  now  as  I 
write  they  crowd  up  before  me.  First 
comes  an  endless  series  of  pictures, 
magnificent  in  form,  effect  and  color. 
I  see  the  great  peaks  with  clouded  tops, 
seeming  to  mount  up  for  ever  and  ever ; 
I  hear  the  music  of  the  distant  herds. 


.  , 


i6z 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


the  peasant's  jodel  and  the  solemn 
church-bells;  and  I  scent  the  fragrant 
breath  of  the  pines:  and  after  these 
have  passed  away  another  train  of 
thoughts  succeeds — of  those  who  have 
been  upright,  brave  and  true ;  of  kind 
hearts  and  bold  deeds;  and  of  cour- 
tesies received  at  stranger  hands,  trifles 
in  themselves,  but  expressive  of  that 
good-will  toward  men  which  is  the  es- 
sence of  charity. 

Still,    the    last    sad    memory   hovers 
round,  and  sometimes  drifts  across  like 


floating  mist,  cutting  off  sunshine  and 
chilling  the  remembrance  of  happier 
times.  There  have  been  joys  too  great 
to  be  described  in  words,  and  there  have 
been  griefs  upon  which  I  have  not  dared 
to  dwell ;  and  with  these  in  mind  I  say, 
Climb  if  you  will,  but  remember  that 
courage  and  strength  are  naught  with- 
out prudence,  and  that  a  momentary 
negligence  may  destroy  the  happiness 
of  a  lifetime.  Do  nothing  in  haste,  look 
well  to  each  step,  and  from  the  begin- 
ning think  what  may  be  the  end. 


APPENDIX. 


A.  SUBSEQUENT  ASCENTS  OF  THE  MAT- 

TERHORN. 

MR.  CRAUFURD  GROVE  was  the  first  traveler  who 
ascended  the  Matterhorn  after  the  accident.  This 
was  in  August,  1867.  He  took  with  him  as  guides 
three  mountaineers  of  the  Val  Tournanche — J.-A. 
Carrel,  J.  Bich  and  S.  Meynet,  Carrel  being  the 
leader.  The  natives  of  Val  Tournanche  were,  of 
course,  greatly  delighted  that  his  ascent  was  made 
upon  their  side.  Some  of  them,  however,  were  by  no 
means  well  pleased  that  J.-A.  Carrel  was  so  much 
regarded.  They  feared,  perhaps,  that  he  would  ac- 
quire the  monopoly  of  the  mountain.  Just  a  month 
after  Mr.  Grove's  ascent,  six  Val  Tournanchians  set 
out  to  see  whether  they  could  not  learn  the  route, 
and  so  come  in  for  a  share  of  the  good  things  which 
were  expected  to  arrive.  They  were  three  Maqui- 
gnazes,  Caesar  Carrel  (my  old  guide),  J.-B.  Carrel,  and 
a  daughter  of  the  last  named  !  They  left  Breuil  at  5 
A.  M.  on  September  12,  and  at  3  p.  M.  arrived  at  the 
hut,  where  they  passed  the  night.  At  7  A.  M  the  next 
day  they  started  again  (leaving  J.-B.  Carrel  behind), 
and  proceeded  along  the  "shoulder"  to  the  final 
peak ;  passed  the  cleft  which  had  stopped  Benrten, 


and  clambered  up  the  comparatively  easy  rocks  OB 
the  other  side  until  they  arrived  at  the  base  of  the 
last  precipice,  down  which  we  had  hurled  stones  on 
July  14,  1865.  They  (young  woman  and  all)  were 
then  about  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  from  the  sum- 
mit !  Then,  instead  of  turning  to  the  left,  as  Carrel 
and  Mr.  Grove  had  done,  Joseph  and  J. -Pierre  Ma- 
quignaz  paid  attention  to  the  cliff  in  front  of  them, 
and  managed  to  find  a  means  of  passing  up,  by  clefts, 
ledges  and  gullies,  to  the  summit.  This  was  a  short- 
er (and  it  appears  to  be  an  easier)  route  than  that 
taken  by  Carrel  and  Grove,  and  it  has  been  followed 
by  all  those  who  have  since  then  ascended  the  moun- 
tain from  the  side  of  Breuil.  Subsequently,  a  rope 
was  fixed  over  the  most  difficult  portions  of  the  final 
climb. 

In  the  mean  time  they  had  not  been  idle  upon  the 
other  side.  A  hut  was  constructed  upon  the  eastern 
face  at  a  height  of  12,526  feet  above  the  sea,  near  to 
the  crest  of  the  ridge  which  descends  toward  Zermatt 
(north-east  ridge).  This  was  done  at  the  expense' of 
Monsieur  Seller  and  of  the  Swiss  Alpine  Club.  Mohs. 
Seiler  placed  the  execution  of  the  work  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Knubels,  of  the  village  of  St.  Nicholas, 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST   THE  ALPS  IN  i86o-'69. 


163 


in  the  Zermatt  valley  ;  and  Peter  Knubel,  along  with    [    honor  of  making  the  second  ascent  of  the  mountain 
Joseph  Marie  Lochmatter  of  the  same  village,  had  the    I    upon  the  northern  side  with  Mr.  Elliott.     This 'took 

.,-  ws«e-.;  mvz™''"-j--.t\$i!*&.''''~' 
% 

J~~  ^^' 

&V^  r 

-\\X^, 


place  on  July  24  and  25,  1868.     Since  then  numerous    I    which  calls  for  mention  is- that  by  Signer  Giordano, 
ascents  have  been  made,  and  of  these  the  only  one        on   September  3-5,  1868.     This   gentleman   came  to 


[64 


SCRAMBLES  AMONGST  THE  ALPS  IN  1860-' 69. 


Breuil  several  times  after  his  famous  visit  in  1865, 
with  the  intention  of  making  the  ascent,  but  he  was 
always  baffled  by  weather.  In  July,  1866,  he  got  as  high 
as  the  "cravate"  (with  J  -A.  Carrel  and  other  men), 
and  ivas  detained  there  Jive  days  and  nights,  unable 
to  mova  either  up  or  down!  At  last,  upon  the 
above-named  date,  he  was  able  to  gratify  his  desires, 
and  accomplished  the  feat  of  ascending  the  mountain 
upon  one  side  and  descending  it  upon  the  other. 
Signer  Giordano  is,  I  believe,  the  only  geologist  who 
has  ascended  the  Matterhorn.  He  spent  a  consider- 
able time  in  the  examination  of  its  structure,  and  be- 
came benighted  on  its  eastern  face  in  consequence. 

B.  DENUDATION  IN  THE  VALLEY  OF 
THE  DURANCE. 

In  the  summer  of  1869,  whilst  walking  up  the  val- 
ley of  the  Durance  from  Mont  Dauphin  to  Briancjon, 
I  noticed,  when  about  five  kilometres  from  the  latter 
place,  some  pinnacles  on  the  mountain-slopes  to  the 
west  of  the  road.  I  scrambled  up,  and  found  the  re- 
markable natural  pillars  which  are  represented  in  the 
annexed  engraving.  They  were  formed  out  of  an  tin- 
stratified  conglomerate  of  gritty  earth,  boulders  and 
stones.  Some  of  them  were  more  thickly  studded 
with  stones  than  a  plum-pudding  usually  is  with 
plums,  whilst  from  others  the  stones  projected  like 
the  spines  from  an  echinoderm.  The  earth  (or  mud) 
was  extremely  hard  and  tenacious,  and  the  stones 
embedded  in  it  were  extricated  with  considerable  dif- 
ficulty. The  mud  adhered  very  firmly  to  the  stones 
that  were  got  out,  but  it  was  readily  washed  away  in 
a  little  stream  near  at  hand.  In  a  few  minutes  I  ex- 
tracted fragments  of  syenite,  mica -schist,  several 
kinds  of  limestone  and  conglomerates,  and  some  fossil 
plants  characteristic  of  carboniferous  strata.  Most 
of  the  fragments  were  covered  with  scratches,  which 
told  that  they  had  traveled  underneath  a  glacier. 
The  mud  had  all  the  character  of  glacier-mud,  and  the 
hillside  was  covered  with  drift.  From  these  indica- 
tions, and  from  the  situation  of  the  pinnacles,  I  con- 
cluded that  they  had  been  formed  out  of  an  old  mo- 
raine. The  greatest  of  them  were  sixty  to  seventy 
feet  high,  and  the  moraine  had  therefore  been  at  least 


that  height.  I  judged  from  appearances  that  the  mo- 
raine was  a  frontal-terminal  one  of  a  glacier  which 
had  been  an  affluent  of  the  great  glacier  that  formerly 
occupied  the  valley  of  the  Durance,  and  which  during 
retrogression  had  made  a  stand  upon  this  hillside  near 
Sachas.  This  lateral  glacier  had  flowed  down  a 
nameless  vallon  which  descends  toward  the  east- 
south-east  from  the  mountain  called  upon  the  French 
government  map  Sommet  de  1'Eychouda  (8740  feet). 

Only  one  of  all  the  pinnacles  that  I  saw  was  capped 
by  a  stone  (a  small  one),  and  I  did  not  notice  any 
boulders  lying  in  their  immediate  vicinity  of  a  size 
sufficient  to  account  for  their  production  in  the  man- 
ner of  the  celebrated  pillars  near  Botzen.  The  read- 
ers of  Sir  Charles  Lyell's  Principles  (xoth  ed.,  vol.  i., 
p.  338)  will  remember  that  he  attributes  the  formation 
of  the  Botzen  pillars  chiefly  to  the  protection  which 
boulders  have  afforded  to  the  underlying  matter  from 
the  direct  action  of  rain.  This  is  no  doubt  correct : 
the  Botzen  pinnacles  are  mostly  capped  by  boulders 
of  considerable  dimensions.  In  the  present  instance 
this  does  not  appear  to  have  been  exactly  the  case. 
Running  water  has  cut  the  moraine  into  ridges  (shown 
upon  the  right  hand  of  the  engraving),  and  has  evi- 
dently assisted  in  the  work  of  denudation.  The  group 
of  pinnacles  here  figured  belonged,  in  all  probability, 
to  a  ridge  which  had  been  formed  in  this  way,  whose 
crest,  in  course  of  time,  became  sharp,  perhaps  at- 
tenuated. In  such  a  condition  very  small  stones  upon 
the  crest  of  the  ridge  would  originate  little  pinnacles  : 
whether  these  would  develop  into  larger  ones  would 
depend  upon  the  quantity  of  stones  embedded  in  the 
surrounding  moraine -matter.  I  imagine  that  the 
largest  of  the  Sachas  pinnacles  owe  their  existence  to 
the  portions  of  the  moraine  out  of  which  they  are 
formed  having  been  studded  with  a  greater  quantity 
of  stones  and  small  boulders  than  the  portions  of  the 
moraine  which  formerly  filled  the  gaps  between  them; 
and,  of  course,  primarily,  to  the  facts  that  glacier-mud 
is  extremely  tenacious  when  dry,  and  is  readily  wash- 
ed away.  Thus,  the  present  form  of  the  pinnacles  is 
chiefly  due  to  the  direct  action  of  rain,  but  their  pro- 
duction was  assisted,  in  the  first  instance,  by  the  ac- 
tion of  running  water. 


7 


14  DAY  USE 

TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPARTMENT 


General  Library     . 
Uoi^rsity  of  California 
Berkeley 


m-B 


1 


